Caught
by XiuRong
Summary: On a whim, Gunji seizes Akira after assaulting him in a back alley, with the intention to keep him. But as time passes, Gunji's thoughts begin to change. With Akira's inability to forgive, their relationship becomes increasingly complex, many misunderstandings leading to another (essentially creating a previously nonexistent route for Gunji off the Executioner Bad End in the game).
1. Bad End

Takeru's grip was firmly locked onto Akira's arm, and there was nothing Akira could do but follow along in a stumbling run.

Out of all the times to call him out.

Takeru was a clear violator of Igura's rules, a tag thief. It was only expected that the consequences, the Executioners, Kiriwar and Gunji, would eventually catch up to him.

Takeru was on the run, right then and there, from the insane duo, and by sheer luck, Takeru and Akira had come face to face.

"You!" He called out to Akira. "Come with me!"

Now, it wasn't just Takeru running from the Executioners. Akira was dragged into it.

Either way, it would be bad to get caught.

Akira yanked his arm out of Takeru's grip.

"Hey!"

Before Takeru could grab hold of him again, Akira sprinted down another alley. All he could think of was losing the Executioners.

He turned left. The alley continued straight ahead to meet a side street further down.

As breathing became painful and judging that the distance was enough, he slowed his pace and pressed his hand to the wall, but his relief was short-lived.

"Foooouuund ya..."

A distinctive and recognizable voice sounded over Akira's head, and someone dropped down to block the way. The body that landed in a crouch in front of him slowly rose, unfolding itself.

Rough blonde hair covering his eyes, that pink, open hoodie... One of the Executioners, Gunji, stood before him. Akira looked up to see the second-floor window of a vacant building missing its glass.

"Sooo gullible. Thought you could run away?" Gunji's mouth widened into a grin.

As Akira attempted a quick retreat, Gunji grabbed his arm.

"Let-!"

"Shut the fuck up."

A sharp wind whipped past him. Gunji held his claws to Akira's throat.

Akira immediately cut off his own protest.

"I'll kill ya if you scamper around too much, ya know."

He hurled the slighter man against the wall. As Akira's back rebounded against the concrete, his breathing came to a halt. A shadow fell over Akira as he curled up in agony. At the edge of his unstable vision, he saw Gunji hunkering down .

The tips of his claws lifted Akira's chin, and the Executioner's eyes flicked over him, "Ah... nice eyes... Not like the addicts takin' that Line shit."

"Makes me wanna see ya squirm around in pain."

Gunji's normally hidden eyes were visible through the gaps in his bangs. The Executioner's stare pierced him, but Akira didn't look away.

Then, Gunji roughly grabbed the front of Akira's bangs and forced his forehead up. He wore a brutal smile as he watched Akira gritting his teeth.

"Try singin' a little."

The tips of the claws strapped to his other hand glided down from Akira's chin to his throat, and then his collarbone. Leisurely, dextrously, without cutting a single scrap of skin. When they caught on the rim of Akira's shirt, he ripped right through it in one swift motion.

He laid the blades against Akira's bare skin and slowly began to lower them.

A red streak sprang forth, followed, after a short delay, by drops of blood swelling out at an irregular pace. Akira flinched at the stinging pain...

...but he was far more panicked by Gunji's unpredictability.

A second streak was drawn next to the first.

A third...

An irresistable impulse began to rise within Akira. Every fiber in his body screamed at him to run.

As if Gunji could sense his thoughts, he laughed under his breath and then shoved a knee between Akira's legs, effectively keeping him in place.

The blades retraced the three cuts.

One at a time. Meticulously.

Driven further and further into a corner by this gradual torment, Akira fought to shove Gunji's body away from him, regardless of the danger involved.

In response, he laughed under his breath, "Hey... Sing for me... Yell... Cry. Scream!"

Gunji delightedly broadened his grin.

Akira held his breath when a pain ran through his chest.

The tips of Gunji's claws had sunken into his skin, to control his writhing.

"'Cause I ain't got enough adrenaline... and I mean it."

His tone shifted, going from crazed to heated.

He yanked down Akira's jeans.

Akira tried to shift away, but he had no room to move. One of Gunji's claws nicked his back and tore through the jacket as Gunji shifted to pin Akira against the wall.

He went dizzy at the pain that shot through him.

Iron. His mind was being blotted out by red.

Gunji's laughter sounded in his ears. "... Ahahaha! So red... so warm... This is what ya call proof that you're alive! Ain't nothin' more of a treat than blood and screams!"

Akira's expression twisted as Gunji's tongue grazed his bloodied skin. Gunji's body temperature seeped into his freshly torn wounds.

He stayed as silent as he could and pressed his lips together in agony, hoping the Executioner would tire of him.

Even now, even with his body slowly going numb, Akira resisted. His very thoughts were becoming torpid, and he was losing strength as blood continued to flow out of him.

As he fought to maintain consciousness, suddenly, Gunji hoisted up his legs.

Although he was in a daze, Akira could feel the weight of his back and hips shift onto the concrete wall behind him.

"Sing real pretty for me, will ya? ... 'cause I'm gonna get bored." His maddened eyes looked straight into Akira's, and his smile filled Akira's misty field of sight.

Akira felt something pressing into the depths of his body. Before he could realize what it was, Gunji hauled up his knees.

Akira couldn't hold back an agonized scream.

A ripping pain tore him apart. Enough pain to make him forget the injuries on his chest. His throat convulsed, stifling his pained voice.

"... You gotta ease up a bit... or you're gonna tear me to shreds..." Breathing unevenly, Gunji laughed.

As Gunji moved in him against his will, his thoughts became so clouded, he no longer could tell what was happening to him.

"Does it hurt? Don't you want it to hurt? Nothin' fun about only feelin' good..." Gunji whispered in his ear as he continued the assault.

Even through Akira's gritted teeth, stifled cries slipped out.

The air had grown thick with the smell of iron. Gunji's cheeks, too, were splattered with red.

"Haa... Love that voice... Cry some more... more..." He muttered feverishly.

Red.

It hurts.

It hurts. It hurts. It hurts!

Akira's vision was going. He'd lost too much blood. From the way Gunji was forcing himself on him, he was probably bleeding down there, too.

Please let it be over. Quickly.

Akira lost track of time as he tried to escape the pain.

His consciousness was drifting, and his own voice had lowered down to pained gasps. Gunji was quiet, too. Even at the verge of unconsciousness, he thought it was strange not hearing the voice of the usually garrulous Executioner. All he could hear now was rough breathing coming from the both of them. One in pain and the other...

Against his hair, he felt a stifled breath. His legs were painfully pressed further apart, and he could feel blades biting against his thighs.

Finally, Gunji had stopped.

Akira's energy gone and his sight dark, he could just barely register Gunji's next words.

Nuzzling his face against Akira's hair, he murmured to himself in a low voice, "So pretty... Would be a waste..."


	2. Look At Me

"I just picked up a stray~"

Gunji's entry was hardly subtle - Was it ever? - as the door to Arbitro's mansion swung open.

Kiriwar turned to greet his partner. They had lost each other in the chase for the tag thief with the blue-dyed hair and the other guy he had dragged along with him.

"Yo, Gun-"

He cut himself off. It wasn't Gunji's appearance that surprised him. No. Gunji looked like that half the day, every day. It was the body in his arms. He recognized it immediately, even without the fur-lined jacket the guy usually wore, and approached the two.

"Damn... you really messed him up..."

Kiriwar observed the slashes decorating the man's body.

He whistled, and his eyes flicked over the senseless man's face, "And wasn't this the guy Arbitro had his eyes on? ... He ain't gonna be happy."

"I'm gonna keep him." Gunji stated, his usual grin on his face.

"Huh?" Kiriwar expression was skeptical. Keep him?

"Yeah."

Gunji's laugh lowered as he looked down at the slighter man in his arms, "Ahaha... so cute~"

"Well~" He turned to the long corridor and threw a less-than-sane grin over his shoulder, "I'll be in my room with the kitty~"

Long after the sounds of Gunji's steps faded, Kiriwar still stood there, somewhat amazed. His partner was one hell of an unpredictable guy. Well. It's not as if he couldn't understand why he would want to keep his catch.

Kiriwar walked over to the couch at the center of the room and kicked his legs up onto the table.

He waited for Arbitro's arrival.

"Kitty~ kitty~" Gunji sang to himself.

Slowly, almost gently, for Gunji, he laid the insensate Akira down on the bed. He frowned at the temperature of Akira's skin.

"Cold." Gunji's expression turned into that of a puzzled child.

"Are you cold, Kitty?" He strided purposefully to the other side of the room, where he had thrown a thick white blanket.

"Here." Gunji kneeled down and lifted Akira's slack body a bit to wrap the blanket loosely around him.  
>He was light.<p>

Almost immediately, red patches began to bloom all over the blanket. Blood had seeped even through the clothes Gunji had so thoughtfully put back on him.

Even in Gunji's dense thought processes, he was able to realize that the bleeding wasn't stopping. Gunji's slight movements had reopened the wounds on the other man's body.

He didn't want to keep some corpse. He wanted his new kitty alive.

"Hey," After unstrapping the blades usually strapped to his hand, Gunji lightly jabbed at Akira's jaw.  
>It turned his head to the side, exposing opening slashes beneath his collarbone. No reaction.<p>

Gunji stood up abruptly.

For the first time, there was a conflict in his mind. He'd never worried about preserving or taking care of anything, not even himself - not that he needed to - and that feeling didn't sit too well with him.

For the second time, Kiriwar turned his attention to the opening entrance to Arbitro's mansion.

There he was. The man himself.

Arbitro, followed by a couple suited, masked men, waved them away when he saw Kiriwar.

"Ah. There you are." He stuffed a hankerchief into his back pocket. "It's about time for you two to take Kau on a walk..."

Arbitro paused.

"Where is Gunji?" Arbitro asked the personally-hired bodyguard sitting before him. The other one was missing.

"He's in his room," Kiriwar stated matter-of-factly, "... probably cuddling with the cat he brought back with him."

"C-Cat?"

Arbitro hated the things.

"Yeah." Kiriwar's nonchalant gaze fixed back onto his employer. "Cat."

Now, Arbitro was stomping through the hall, flanked by Kiriwar, who was vaguely interested in the outcome of the situation.

"A cat!"

Arbitro muttered irritatedly to himself. "After all this time, he finally brings one back with him."  
>"Even though I told him never to-!"<p>

Arbitro lost his footing on a slippery area of the floor. Now even more provoked he glared angrily at the tiles.

Blood?

There was blood marking the spot.

And there was a long trail of it from behind him.

What had Gunji done now?

He strided quickly to the door and was about to turn the knob before realizing that even it was bloodied.

Arbitro recoiled in disgust.

"How distasteful."

Only a glance from Arbitro was needed to prompt Kiriwar into opening the door for him.

"Why don't you use that clean-ass hankerchief of yours?" Kiriwar grunted as he kicked the solid wood.

The door opened easily, and a shocking sight greeted them.

There was blood almost everywhere, and it only added to mess that was already there.

Blades made a sharp clinking sound as Arbitro's shoe hit the claws that were usually strapped to Gunji's hands.

He was about to step back, but then he saw the familiar figure of Gunji near the center of the room, on the bed, his arms firmly wrapped around something.

The cat.

Before Arbitro could let loose, he recognized what- no, who - Gunji's arms were wrapped around. Even though from his position, he could only see the young man's back, that distinct silver hair gave him away.

There were greivous wounds on his back. One large slash marked the area, painfully scraped raw.  
>His entire body was covered in angry red slashes.<p>

That idiotic-! How dare he-? To this beautiful young man...

"Gunji!" Arbitro practically shrieked. "What did you do?!"

"Told ya he wasn't gonna be happy..." Kiriwar remarked, having followed closely after Arbitro.

Arbitro flipped on the second light switch, sending more light scattering across the room.

When Gunji turned to face them as if in reaction to the suddenly brighter lighting, Kiriwar went silent. Something was different in his expression.

The delighted light in his eyes and sadistically happy expression that usually accompanied his blood-covered figure wasn't there.

Something was definitely off.

As quickly as that expression had shocked Kiriwar, it faded, replaced with mild irritation.

"Oy, Papa, turn that down, would ya?"

"Keh-!" Arbitro shrieked, "Why... you! Do you know how valuable this young man is?! And you-!"

Arbitro was at a loss for words.

He exhaled in frustration, "At any rate, we need to fix this. We need to treat him immediately. We need some kind of medic... Kiri-"

"Fix him?"

Curiously, Gunji interrupted.

Arbitro snapped back, "Of course! He needs treatment right now!"

He turned back to the other Executioner. "Kiriwar-"

"Yeah, yeah. I got it. I'm going." Kiriwar left the room.

And when he returned, he entered the room with a nervous, much older man rolling a large case full of medical supplies behind him.

"Just fix him up with some bandages, and it'll all be good...?" Kiriwar muttered to no one in particular.

"Y-Yes-" He responded quickly to Kiriwar, obviously intimidated by his company.

Arbitro's exasperated voice rang out, "Then treat him immediately. We can't have this young man dying on us." Before leaving the room with Kiriwar, he glared pointedly at Gunji, who was paying no attention to him.

His eyes were fixed on the medic.

The man hesitated to move closer but prompted by the other Executioner and the demanding Arbitro's money, he walked closer to the figure still in Gunji's embrace.

"Hey."

He froze.

"Let me do it." Gunji's glanced pointed at the case in his hands.

The medic hesitated.

"Just fix him up with bandages... right?" Gunji prompted, repeating Kiriwar's words.

"I can do bandages."

The medic finally spoke again, quickly, "There c-could be a risk of infection, so... I'd have to look at that, too..."

"Eh...?" Gunji's expression turned impatient, his eyes no longer on the medical suitcase but instead fixed onto the medic's increasingly nervous demeanor.

The tension in the room seemed to heighten with every passing second that the medic didn't hand over the case. Between Arbitro and the Executioner before him, he had to make a decision.

A brief moment passed before the man gulped and set the case onto the ground.

Gunji moved from the bed, causing the medic to step back.

With a bloodied arm and an almost appreciative grin, Gunji picked up the large, heavy suitcase.

"Thanks."

When Akira came to, his consciousness came back all at once.

Pain. Pain and aches everywhere. His body felt heavy and sluggish, but it was wrapped in a strange warmth. Through an awakening daze, Akira wondered to himself why he wasn't dead. Numb sensation had filled his entire body. He was aware in mind but not in body.

Where was he?

His eyes flickered open to dim light. He was in a large room. Although the range of his sight did not extend very far, he could make out piles of clothes, blankets, pillows, and... blades.

On the ground, there were blades. The very ones Gunji always had strapped to his hands.

Akira's eyes widened.

This warmth around him. He was sitting upright, being held steadily in place.

Vague sensation on his back. Where he had been cut. And...

... An arm wrapped around his waist. He recognized those tattoos.

His breathing hitched in a panic. His voice - even that was pained - couldn't make a sound.

Akira's jolted his body away, and he felt himself the bed beneath him disappear. Where was his sense of balance?

"Whoa."

Arms caught his body, firmly and steadily pulling him upright again.

"Ya awake, already?"

He recognized that voice. It was close. Too close to him. In another attempt to get away, he moved his uncertain limbs in a way that he hoped would get him farther away.

This time, he fell off the bed, landing hard on the cold floor. The numbness in his body snapped away, and pain shot through every nerve in his body.

"Keh-" Akira let out a cry of pain.

In a burst of adrenaline and with no time to waste, he placed his legs beneath his body and threw a hand out to find an anchor for himself. Only a moment after his hand met the wall, his legs collapsed.

Damn it!

Arms caught him again.

"Haha... so cute..."

Akira shut his eyes in frustration and fear. In this state, there was no possible way for him to escape.

He felt himself get lifted up, and he expected to be thrown back onto bed but... Gunji was careful to place him comfortably, sitting him upright again... then settling into a space right behind him.

Akira didn't want to be anywhere near this man, but he was held firmly in place. He flinched at the Executioner's touch, which led to a laugh from behind him.

"Hey... Are ya scared?" Gunji's voice was right next to his ear.

It was obvious, wasn't it? Akira knew that he was giving the Executioner what he loved the most, running away, shaking in terror, but at the moment, he really couldn't give a damn. All he wanted to do was run away. Especially after...

He turned his face away, his body reacting to the memory of the trauma inflicted on him by the Executioner. Every wound on his body ached to remind him.

His body trembled. In pain. In fear. And in anticipation for what the Executioner might do next.

Gunji's unpredictability frightened him. And he was at the mercy of it for as long as his body remained in this state.

"Aww..." One of Gunji's arms slid up his chest and grabbed hold of his jaw, turning his head back around to face him. "Looking like that... Makes me wanna..."

A grin crept into Gunji's expression.

"Those eyes..."

Akira hardened his eyes and stared right back into Gunji's sharp, studying gaze, even though he knew he likely looked more like a cornered animal.

"Hn." Gunji let out a short breath and released his jaw. "Stay still."

Akira's body didn't properly respond anyway. He froze when he felt Gunji's hands move to his back, expecting pain.

"Geh..." Gunji exhaled in mild irritation. "This isn't at all like how Jiijii said... What's with these bandages..."

Bandages...?

Akira looked down at his body, noticing for the first time that the severe pain from before had faded into dull aches. The slashes on his chest and arms were cleaned and wrapped somewhat adeptly by white strips of cloth. Bandages.

A stinging smell reached his nose, accompanied by a dull ache at his back. Disinfectant?

Akira could almost laugh at the absurdity of the situation. It was far removed from the image of the crazed, bloodthirsty killer he held in his mind. But he was too uncertain. Too afraid. Was this another one of the Executioner's whims?

He would likely rip his arm out just to hear him scream in the next instant.

"Done." Gunji's satisfied voice snapped him back into reality.

Gunji moved around the large bed to face Akira. With no support or strength to hold himself up, Akira fell back against the wall behind the bed. Both of them were studying the other. Gunji's eyes moved over Akira's body, looking over his own handiwork, and Akira's eyes studied Gunji's every move, wary.

Suddenly, Gunji moved off the bed, picking up rags off to the side, on the floor. They were colored a dark red. Were they drenched with blood? Akira's consciousness flickered, but his suspicion didn't go away. He didn't want to lose awareness in a place like this. With a person like that.

"Hey."

Akira had been on the verge of unconsciousness.

He merely threw what he hoped was an sharp gaze back at the blonde Executioner kneeling before him, but he couldn't hold onto awareness for much longer. As he lost himself to sleep, he could barely register the next words that came out of Gunji's mouth.

"... tired...?"

Frustratingly, Akira's consciousness drifted throughout the night. Or day. Or days. He wasn't sure. He knew that he needed to run away. He knew that, but his body was trapped in numbness and pain at the same time, paralyzing itself.

The next time Akira woke, he woke up alone.

Gunji's absence relaxed the initial tension in his body.

Tentatively, Akira moved his limbs, sitting himself upright. The sharp pains from before had faded into dull aches, and his body was now properly responding.

For some reason, his hand flew to his neck.

It was met with the touch of unfamiliar clothing. He was wearing a hooded jacket. And shorts. Both were a size up on him. He noticed, however, that there was nothing underneath, and his chest could feel the rough material and the cold zipper of the jacket.

More importantly...

His tags. They were gone.

In their stead were bandages. And beneath them, he could feel the ache of pained wounds.

He knew would not be able to return to being an unnoticed Igura participant, but technically, he had not lost yet. Something could be said about the fact that he was in the custody of an Executioner, but he had not been knocked onto his back by another Igura participant in a fight with witnesses.

He was overthinking this, and he knew that neither Arbitro, the overseer of Igura, nor the Executioners, its enforcers, would follow the technicalities of the rules.

What else could he do but give up on the small hope of returning to the CFC? To the previous normality of his life?

Had there really been a way to escape the harsh life sentence of the charges of the murder he did not commit?

And from what he had experienced here, he would never be able to return to way he had been before.

Il Re.

How would he accomplish what he was sent here to do?

How could he look his childhood friend in the face? Keisuke had dragged himself in to be here for him, and in desperation, with no other choice, Akira didn't stop him from registering in Igura in the hopes that they would go back together.

Negative feelings gathered in his chest, then dropped in despair and disappointment.

He swallowed those feelings and put them aside to focus on something else.

Something in his body was bothering him.

Now, more than anything, he could only concentrate on the hoarseness in his throat and the twisting feeling in his abdomen. His attention shifted to a set-up on the table beside the bed. Four bottles of water. And a sandwich. Beside it, laid a scrap of paper reading, "FOR THE KITTY."

The Executioner's personality came across even in the rough strokes of his handwriting.

The smell coming from the single sandwich on the table made his stomach churn, and the bottled water on table promised to ease his parched throat.

What could he have possibly put in it? Despite that thought, Akira took the sandwich and bit into it. Vaguely warm. He could taste... cheese...? And meat? ... Ham? He guessed. In his previous life in the CFC, there were no such luxuries.

It was delicious.

Akira reached for a bottle on the table and greedily downed all its contents in a matter of seconds.

For the first time since coming here, Akira felt relieved. And that wasn't just referring to being forcibly taken to Arbitro's mansion. He's been on edge since coming to Toshima. His body had been abused and neglected, having taken damage from all the exciting events that took place in the prison-like city. He'd neglected his appetite and his need for sleep.

He didn't want to admit it, but this was probably the most care his body had been given since he'd come to Toshima. Save for the injuries incurred by the Executioner.

Akira looked around the room.

Was there a bathroom nearby?

His wandering eyes caught on something that answered his question almost immediately.

As he shifted his leg, he winced. With every movement, he could feel his body complain. Slowly, he pushed himself to the edge of the bed and stood up.  
>Beyond the sink in the bathroom, there was a door that could easily be slid open. Inside, there was a large tub... and a shower.<p>

The tiled floor was pristine. The bathroom in Gunji's room was clean - surprisingly - and spacious. It was definitely befitting of Arbitro's mansion, but somehow, he could not associate the room as Gunji's.

Akira did not linger long.

When he left the bathroom, he was careful to close the door securely behind him. Akira didn't want to make it obvious he was snooping around the room.

Gunji wasn't here. If there were a time to make his escape, it would be now.

The windows on the opposite side of the room let in a little light, giving Akira a view of Toshima's overcast skies. The tall curtains had been drawn open and tied aside.

When he stood before the window, he gave up on the idea of escaping through it.

They were on the second floor. It would have been a hassle for him to get from here to ground any other time, but the current state of his body would not be able to handle a jump, or a fall, from this distance.

He tapped a knuckle against the glass. Given how much pride Arbitro seemed to have about his mansion, if he'd had any sense, he would have had the windows in the Executioners' rooms shatterproof.

How futile.

Discouraged. Akira turned his eyes away.

What about the door?

Akira's attention shifted to the opposite side of the room. He turned and padded over to the only entrance and exit to the room.

Could it possibly be unlocked? Could he break it?

He hesitated. His mind raced with what-ifs.

Were there guards? Would they try to stop him? If they did, could he run away?

Maybe.

Anything was better than staying here, waiting, unsure of Gunji's next whim.

Resolved, he reached for the doorknob... then froze as it turned.

He found himself face to face with the bloodied Executioner. When their eyes met, on Gunji's face was an expression of surprise.

Then it warped into that grin.

"Kitty!" Akira flinched back as Gunji tackled him to the floor.

"Ya up already? ...That's good~"

In this position, Gunji's arms were on either side of his shoulders, effectively caging him in. Akira's arms were up and on Gunji, keeping a short distance between their bodies, and he turned his head to the side, away from the imposing figure on top of him.

"Hey... I really like seeing ya in this, Kitty~" Gunji laughed under his breath.

His hand played with the hood trapped underneath his head. This was Gunji's hoodie. His clothes.

Akira shifted uncomfortably when Gunji's hand moved to the nape of his neck. Then his hair. Through the cold bite of metal, Akira noticed that Gunji's claws were still attached.

"Hey... Kitty..."

His hand moved again, turning Akira's head to look upwards at him. It was a silent yet forceful command.

_Look at me._

Akira looked into Gunji's sharp, maddened eyes and returned his stare.

"Don't call me that."

Gunji pressed his forehead onto Akira's.

"Hm...~"

Feeling dangerously bold, or maybe in actuality, desperate, Akira pushed at Gunji's shoulders with his arms.

"Get off of me."

When Gunji ignored his words, Akira shoved harder against his shoulders.

"Get off-"

Gunji caught both of his hands and forced them up above Akira's head, pinned down with a forearm.  
>Suddenly, the dim light illuminating Gunji's face darkened some more.<p>

Another voice.

"If you're gonna fuck him, you should at least close the door."

A clink from the tags attached to Gunji's belt sounded as he twisted his torso to look at the figure behind him.

Light filtering in through the door cut the tall figure of the other Executioner.

"It's common courtesy."

Gunji was obviously annoyed by the instrusion, but Kiriwar ignored his partner and stepped into the room as if it were his own.

Now that the light from the room's entrance was no longer in harsh contrast with Kiriwar's figure, Akira could clearly see the blood stains on his clothes and weapon, Mitsuko. The heavy metal pipe's length was nearly a third of its owner's height. Dark liquid stained it, and it wasn't hard to imagine the weapon in action.

Akira could hear and feel the satisfying thunk it made as Kiriwar rested one end of it on the floor.

"Oy, Jiijii," Gunji spoke up. "You're messing up the floor."

He was referring to the blood dripping down from the end of the weapon.

"Like you're one to talk." Kiriwar pointed the metal pipe at the two. "You're messing him up right now."

From the way Kiriwar spoke, it was obvious he wasn't only referring to bloodstains transferring from Gunji's clothes onto Akira.

Kiriwar whistled, "What a sight..."

He moved closer and kneeled to get a better look at the silently glaring Akira's face.

Without looking away, he asked simply, "Wanna share?"

Akira shifted uneasily beneath Gunji.

Gunji snorted. "No. Way. Jiijii."

"Hah...?"

Kiriwar seemed surprised to be shot down by Gunji.

Gunji leaned even closer to Akira, "This one's mine... Get your own kitty if ya want one so bad..."

Akira bristled at Gunji's words and cut Gunji off at the end of his sentence with a knee to the abdomen.

Gunji hadn't let go, but the action took both of the Executioners by surprise. Their attention immediately snapped to Akira.

"Kitty..." Akira hissed, "Don't fucking call me that!"

Kiriwar's eyes followed Akira, interest glinting in his sharp eyes, and continued pressing the issue with Gunji, "But I like this one..."

His tongue ran over the prominent canines in his mouth as it widened into a grin.  
>"He's interesting."<p> 


	3. Basically Human

"Absolutely not!" Arbitro's voice filled the large hall.

He had broken up the scene in Gunji's room, demanding both of the Executioners' presences to speak in private.

"Eh...?" Gunji was still stubbornly pleading his case.

"Really, just look at the state of him..." Arbitro let out an exasperated exhale. "And you expect me to leave him with you?"

"Come on, Papa..." Gunji protested, "I'll take care of him..."

"Those words hardly put my concerns to rest." Arbitro said in response, without missing a beat.

As the two argued over the fate of the former Igura participant still locked in Gunji's room, Kiriwar stood beside them, impatiently swinging around Mitsuko.

"Two weeks have been enough!"

"Doesn't count." Gunji refuted immaturely. "He was sleepin' the entire time."

Kiriwar sighed. What did Arbitro need him here for? He and Gunji seemed to be getting along just fine. His thoughts wandered. To the subject of dinner. Then about the hell of a time doing the laundry was going to be. Blood still dripped from the end of the metal pipe in his hand.

When he tuned back into the conversation between Arbitro and his partner, it seemed as if Arbitro given in a bit to Gunji's demands.

"I don't want to see him in that grievous state he was in-"

"Don't worry. Don't worry." Gunji' asserted. His usual grin had crept back into his expression, "I won't cut him up anymore."

"At all." Arbitro emphasized his terms. "I don't want to see those claws of yours anywhere near him. Or any injury."

"Roger, roger~"

Kiriwar turned his attention to the hired suited and masked man that stood to side, waiting to speak. He heard another set of footsteps in hall and knew immediately who it belonged to.

"Sir." The masked man spoke up. "... Shiki is here to see you. "

Arbitro's attention shifted between the expectant Executioner before him and the other urgently pressing issue beside him.

He sighed, exasperated.

"Fine then. If you want to keep him, keep him alive. And well." Arbitro stated curtly, finally having given in.

A dark figure stood beside the guard.

Shiki.

He raised an eyebrow at Arbitro's words, vaguely intrigued, but didn't press his curiosity. His eyes moved over to the loud Executioner.

Gunji's glee was obvious, and he threw a fist into the air, having won the right to keep his new pet. "Haha! ...Yay."

He hadn't even taken note of the other man's presence until just then.

"Ah," Gunji turned his head to the dark figure with the Japanese sword and the suitcase under his arm. "Hey. Shikiti."

And with that short greeting, he turned to walk the opposite way, down the hall and back to his room.

Now, Shiki's curiosity really was raised. He watched the bloodied Executioner's back as he walked away. Somehow, it felt as if Gunji had dismissed him for something else of greater interest.

He didn't take long to dwell on this as Arbitro turned to deal with the business he brought with him.

-

Akira was sitting against the side of the bed, too exhausted to bother getting back up.

He had sat there, listening to the voices out in the hall.

It wasn't that the conversation was being held close by. It was just that Arbitro and Gunji's voices were both loud, and their argument echoed down the hall, making its way even through the locked door.

Two weeks.

That was how long he had been here.

He had lost a lot of blood from that encounter with Gunji. And the wounds that covered his body could attest to that. It made sense.

But he had no memory whatsoever of the time he had spent in this room.

Akira shifted and looked down at the bandages wrapped around his body.

They were clean. Had they been changed regularly while he was unconscious?

And an unfamiliar scent drifted from his own skin and hair. Not disinfectant. It was somewhat pleasant.

Even his clothes were clean. Well. They had been clean. Bloodstains from Gunji now marked the fabric.

Akira wondered who had taken the time to... Surely not...

The Executioner somehow seemed too rough and dense of a person to have been able to do something like this.

Akira let out a long exhale, closing his eyes and letting his the back of head fall back against the sheets at the edge of the bed. It ached, and his body still wasn't up to par.

That conversation sure was taking a long time...

He allowed himself to relax, letting his blurring thoughts wander.

He had lost track of the time that passed when, at the back of his mind, he registered the sound of the door opening.

This time, he would not make the same mistake. He kept his eyes closed and his breathing even and forced his body to stay relaxed. His other senses however stayed alert.

The door shut with a subtle click.

Was it really Gunji?

What he heard was vaguely recognizable, the sound of metal and something else heavy being dropped into the corner of the room.

Then, he could hear whoever it was approach him, steps padding softly on the floor.

Tags clinked quietly as the man slid strong arms beneath Akira's body. He could feel his body lift off the the floor with ease and then the soft firmness of the bed beneath him.

He felt a blanket being thrown over him.

With the sound of receding footsteps, Akira judged that it was safe for him to open his eyes halfway.

A blurred figure with a garish pink hoodie and tags attached to the belt of his jeans slowly opened the door and quietly shut it behind him.

-

-

-

In the environment Gunji had lived and thrived in, he was deprived.

He lacked something basically human.

And that was exactly what had made him and his partner so effective at their roles as the enforcers of Igura's rules.

Human lives were hardly anything valuable. He and Kiriwar tossed them aside everyday for their own entertainment.

But those two weeks he took to care for the Igura participant he had caught and kept had stirred up something else in him.

It was strange. Difficult. And frustrating.

Within the first two days of bandaging him, the slight man developed a fever. When the medic heard of it, he wasn't surprised. In fact, he had not expected the man to survive his initial injuries.

So the intrigued Gunji took over again, with hardly a protest from the medic.

Kiriwar walked alone on their irregular patrols a few times those two weeks.

And for the first time, Gunji found something difficult.

The former Igura participant's fever rose and fell constantly. The slashed wounds that covered his body opened easily if Gunji weren't careful in moving his body. The store of bandages, abundant, as it had never really been used, was constantly visited by Gunji. His condition had been unstable for that first week.

Yet still, Gunji decided to hold onto him.

At first it had been something to ease his boredom, but somehow... It gave him a strange sense of satisfaction to hear the unconscious man's breaths, still alive because of his less-than-adept attempts at caring for him.

To Gunji, it was something new.

He had long been bored of enforcing Igura's rules, only being satisfied with an occasional participant's tortured screams as he inflicted that pain, alongside his partner Kiriwar.

They were not particularly close, but they shared something in common. Something no one else understood. They both lacked something basically human. And so their relationship could not be described as companionship. It was more like they held a mutual understanding of each other.

That was the only reason why they could stay so close to each other for so long and work together so effectively.

When it came to this new guy, however, Gunji's interest was provoked.

He didn't take Line. Yet he stood firmly against the incredible presences of the Executioners that day. His eyes were clear. And driven.

Pochi - "Tama" if you talked to Kiriwar, or "Kau" if you talked to Arbitro - sniffed him out among the Igura participants and put him on spot for both his and Kiriwar's attention.

The usual reaction was frozen fear.

But this guy... He refused to be the one to break the stare when Kiriwar faced him. And when Gunji challenged him. Over and over again.

If he had been insane or high, it would have easy to dismiss him, but that wasn't the case.

He was interesting. And even Kiriwar noticed that. Both of them found it intriguing.

So they let him go.

The second time they met, however, while running after the tag thief, Gunji immediately recognized the silver-haired Igura participant, somehow dragged into the chase.

And that time, he didn't let him go.

Like he thought, it became something that eased his boredom.

As moved back and forth between the kitchen and the cabinets for hot water, cold water, bandages, rags, and food, Kiriwar just watched him, no doubt wondering what his partner was thinking.

But ever since he saw that expression, that defiant, unwavering look in the former Igura participant's eyes as he watched Gunji's every action warily, despite his vulnerable state, he knew he wanted to find out more about this new and interesting object in his life.

So he diligently tended to him for those two weeks.

Somewhere along the way, he found himself looking forward to returning from his patrols in order to urge cool water down his patient's throat.

Often, in a feverish state, he would push Gunji away, muttering:

"Don't touch me."

"Leave me alone."

"Let go of me."

It didn't bother Gunji at the beginning, but over time, he found himself a bit discouraged that the person he tended so diligently to constantly turned away from him. Not that he should be shocked as to why.

From the intensity of that fever, Gunji wouldn't be surprised if the guy wouldn't be able to recall anything once he recovered.

His temperature went up and down. At first, he constantly was too hot and threw off the blankets Gunji gave him. Then, he felt cold all the time.

Eventually, it came to a point that he no longer pushed Gunji away and reached for his body heat instead.

Gunji was only happy to oblige that request.

When the guy would finally come to his senses, however, Gunji didn't expect that he would want him to be so close anymore.

-

-

-

Akira woke up slowly, somehow comfortable. In a daze and content to stay where he was, he let himself sink into the warmth with a soft exhale.

However, that comfort didn't last long when sleep did not return to him.

He could feel his awareness return to him. There were blankets and pillows surrounding him. Luxuriously warm and soft.

And he could feel someone's arms around him.

His mind snapped to attention as he realized that they belonged to the Executioner, who was right beside him.

An involuntary panic rose in him, he recovering from his injuries, and his body hadn't forgotten who had inflicted them.

Gunji's arms were locked around him. And a leg thrown over the lower half of his body made it almost impossible for him to move.

When he turned his head to look to the side to look at the face of the Executioner, he was taken aback a bit.

Underneath messy blonde hair, Gunji's face was completely relaxed. No hint of the Executioner's impulsive unpredictability was present in his expression. His breathing was slow and quiet, completely at ease. He was definitely in a deep sleep.

The darkness of the room let Akira now that it was likely either the middle of the night or the very early morning.

When Akira squirmed in his grip, the Executioner only shifted and pulled him closer.

Akira struggled again, this time more determined to move away, even by a little.

At this, Gunji's eyes opened, still half-asleep.

"Don't move so much, Kitty..." He murmured and pressed his forehead against the side of Akira's head, his bangs brushing Akira's cheek. "You'll hurt yourself."

Akira squirmed harder against the Executioner's embrace and matched the low volume of Gunji's voice.

"Let go of me."

For a second. the corners of Gunji's mouth went up.

Then he rubbed his forehead against the side of Akira's head. "Let's stay asleep a little longer..."

His eyes closed again, and it was only a moment before his breathing evened out again.

Akira stopped squirming, tired from the effort of moving. Somehow, in this state, he felt somewhat secure in the knowledge that Gunji was unlikely to try to hurt him, at least for the moment.

So he took solace in that small comforting thought.

It was undeniably comfortable. And warm.

Following the advice of the now asleep Gunji beside him, he let himself fall into unconsciousness again.

-

-

-

"Gunji!"

Kiriwar threw the door open. His eyes found the figure of the other Executioner still on the bed.  
>Still sleeping. The lazy bastard.<p>

"Oy, Gunji. Wake up." He spoke again.

"Arbitro's looking for the both of us."

He strode over to the side of the bed, then raised an eyebrow to the scene before him.

"Shut up, Jiijii." Gunji threw an irritated look at him, fully awake.

The other guy was still asleep.

Kiriwar let out an amused laugh, "Wow... Since when did this happen?"

"I said. Shut up, Jiijii."

Gunji carefully pulled himself away from the sleeping figure beside him.

After standing up, he stretched, "I'm up."

"I'll be ready in a sec. Just..." Gunji interrupted himself with a yawn.

Then he grabbed a hoodie and the blades on the table beside it.

Kiriwar turned and began walking out of the room, Gunji following closely behind him.

-

As they walked, Gunji slipped on his hoodie and began strapping the claws onto his knuckles.

He yawned again as he settled into his normal routine, "Wonder what he wants us to do today... D'ya think we got a challenger?"

"For Il Re?" Kiriwar answered, "Nah, probably not."

He looked sideways at his partner. "Wonder what you were doing though..."

"Huh...?" Gunji didn't look up from his work on getting the other set of blades on his other hand.

Kiriwar kept walking. "I can understand why ya wanna keep him around. He's got a pretty sweet face. And a nice body."

Kiriwar continued, "Too bad there aren't any women around here."

They reached the large wooden door to Arbitro's office for Igura. The two suited and masked guards on either side of the door straightened immediately at the sight of the Executioners.

"But..." Kiriwar tapped the heavy metal pipe on his shoulder once. "I'd settle for him though."

Just as the guards were about to push the doors open, Gunji's voice froze them.

"Oy."

The tone of his voice different. Dangerous. Even more so than usual.

"Kitty's mine. Hands off."

After a brief moment of tense silence, Kiriwar turned his torso to face the other Executioner.

"Huh...?"

A crooked, challenging grin crept onto his face.

"... What if I don't want to?"

Both the Executioners faced each other directly, from either side of the hall. The tension built, slowly becoming insurmountable.

Gunji face held no trace of its usual high-spirited madness.

Slowly, he raised his outstretched fist, blades attached, pointedly at the other Executioner.

"Then we're gonna have a real problem here, Jiijii."

His eyes locked onto Kiriwar's.

The air in the area surrounding them became unbelievably heavy.

Then, one of the guards spoke up, nervously.

"Arbitro-sama is waiting inside."

Nodding to the other guard, he and the other man pushed the doors wide open.

"After you." Kiriwar tilted his head in Gunji's direction, still wearing that crooked, challenging smile.

When Gunji finally moved, Kiriwar walked beside him as they stepped into Arbitro's office, just as they do every morning.


	4. Don't Want To

When Gunji returned to the room, Akira was awake.

He turned to look at the Executioner immediately, wary.

Gunji just strided over to the side of the bed.

With the grin always present on the Executioner's face, he greeted Akira, "Late afternoon, Kitty~"

"Ya hungry?"

Akira's stomach reacted involuntarily, turning at the mention of food.

In one quick motion, Gunji had Akira in his arms and off the bed.

The faint scent of iron sent Akira into a panic.

"Oy, don't move so much." He had to fight a bit to hold onto the squirming Akira. "'The heck am I gonna get ya to the table if ya squirm so much?"

"Let go of me!" Akira almost fell out of the Executioner's grip.

"Whoa-" Gunji almost had to drop to a knee in order to keep his balance.

"I can walk on my own, so let go!"

With those words, Akira expected to be dropped onto the ground.

Instead, he found himself being lowered steadily to an upright position.

"I got it. I got it," Gunji slowly loosened his hold on Akira's torso. "So don't move around too much."

It took all of Akira's effort not to collapse immediately when Gunji released his hold completely. The Executioner's arms still hovered around Akira's shoulders.

Akira clenched his jaw in an effort to make use of the recovering limbs he had not used in two weeks.

"I can walk on my own." He asserted again, both to the blonde Executioner next to him and himself.

The grin on Gunji's face had faded, and he watched Akira for a moment before stepping back and indicating that Akira follow him out the door.

As they walked down the hall, Akira followed Gunji unsteadily, trailing one hand close to the wall, just in case. He was afraid he would not have been able to keep up with the Executioner's usually long striding pace, but Gunji had slowed down to stay just ahead of Akira.

Occasionally, Akira saw Gunji's head turn slightly to the side, over his shoulder, as if watching out for him.

Akira exhaled under his breath. What was there to watch for? There was no possible way for him to run away in this state. Besides...

Akira looked at the area around him. Each long hallway seemed to meet another, all of them filled with doors to countless rooms. What were all of them used for anyway?

Either way, the mansion was like a maze. Getting out, in his current state, would be impossible.

He would be caught by a guard easily, or even worse, by one of the Executioners, if he didn't collapse or get lost first.

So the only thing Akira could do was follow closely behind Gunji's back.

The hand he trailed along the wall tensed when it lost touch of something solid to hold onto, and he bit onto his lip involuntarily in effort and in order to keep himself standing upright.

They entered an large open room with a long, wooden table in center, surrounded by Arbitro's choice furniture.

At one end of the table, there was already a set-up of a meal.

From this distance, Akira couldn't see what it was.

"Over here, Kitty~" Gunji called out to him, patting the pulled-out chair obviously meant for Akira.

A widening smile spread onto his face as Akira took the seat.

"You're up and all, and I figured ya didn't wanna stay in the room forever, so~"

Gunji pulled out the seat beside Akira and sat down on it with a thump.

"We're eatin' here!"

Akira looked down at the plate.

Omurice. Even though from the dimming skies outside, it was likely close to evening.

"Go on. Try it~" Gunji urged him on, pushing the plate slightly closer to Akira.

Akira glanced up at the grinning Executioner before him, then back down at the meal set out for him.

"Who knows what could have been put in it?" Akira warily looked over at Gunji.

Gunji tilted his head, "Eh... But you like this, don't ya?"

He was referring to the dish. Omurice.

Akira wouldn't call it his favorite meal. However, he did prefer to eat omurice-flavored solids over others, if they were available. He had never tasted the real deal though.

Moreover, how would this guy know anything about that fact?

Gunji seemed to read Akira's thoughts through the questioning look thrown at him.

"Just somethin' I noticed~"

Noticed?

Since when?

After a brief moment of hesitation, Akira picked up the spoon set next to the dish.

He took a small bite.

Delicious.

Although Akira tried to keep his expression as plain as possible, his eyes widened a bit.

"Ha~" Gunji seemed to be thrilled. "I knew you'd like it."

"So..." Gunji leaned in, "How is it? Ya never tasted anything like it before, right~?"

Akira didn't respond. He turned his head aside and just closed his mouth over another spoonful.

"Haha~" Gunji appeared to be very satisfied with himself as he watched Akira finish the meal.

By this point, Akira had pretty much given up on his suspicions about the food. He couldn't care any less. He was just so damn hungry.

He didn't even hesitate when he noticed Gunji's eyes narrow minutely as he reached for the glass of water on the table.

He tilted his head back and gulped down the cool water.

Then, right after he set the glass back on the table, Gunji reached out and closed his hand around Akira's wrist.

"Does it hurt?"

Akira's reflexive reaction was to pull his hand away, but Gunji's expression stopped him.

Somehow, it felt as if he were asking a legitimate question.

Akira opened his mouth slowly.

"No. Not really."

"Huh."

Gunji's grin returned again. "Good then~"

He stood up abruptly, knocking his chair back, and stepped towards Akira, sweeping him up into his arms again.

"Wha-" Akira was startled by Gunji's sudden movements.

"Come on. Just let me do this~" Gunji urged Akira.

"It'll be faster this way."

Gunji took his usual loping pace as he strided out of the room and down the hall.

Back to his room.

Akira landed in soft fwump on the bed, lightly tossed by Gunji.

"I think we can take these off now~"

Gunji followed closely after Akira, and his hands slid underneath the long-sleeved shirt Akira was wearing, pushing up the fabric.

Akira immediately grabbed at Gunji's arms, but the Executioner ignored the resistance.

In one smooth movement, the shirt slipped off, over Akira's head, rustling up his hair.

Akira practically kicked himself backwards but stopped when his back hit a pile of pillows and blankets, stacked high against the backboard of the bed.

"Come on. Just relax." With an entertained smile, Gunji licked his upper lip. "I'm not gonna hurt ya~"

He was obviously getting a kick out of his reaction.

Akira glared with all the animosity he could gather behind his eyes, "Don't touch me."

"Hm..."

Gunji moved closer and caught both of Akira's forearms. Firmly. But... gently.

"I already said... I'm not gonna hurt ya."

Akira sat there, watching Gunji release one of his arms and move it to the bandages at his shoulder.

With a short tug, it began to unravel.

"There. Just... stay still for a sec..." Gunji focused on removing the bandages that covered Akira's body.

As he pulled each strip of gauze aside, White slashed marks on Akira's body were revealed. Newly healing skin.

Puzzled by the Executioner's quiet concentration, Akira didn't move, only listening to the quiet breaths that filled the air between them and watching Gunji work at unraveling the bandages from his body.

Finally. The last bandage.

Gunji reached over Akira's shoulder and felt for the strip secured to his back.

...! When Akira flinched minutely, Gunji stopped.

No. It didn't hurt.

The Executioner's eyes flicked over to Akira's, watching his reaction, as he moved to touch the bandage again.

Akira found himself assuring the Executioner, "It's fine."

And with that, Gunji peeled off the bandage.

He dropped it into the accumulated pile of white strips beside him, then bunched them all together in a ball and threw them into a bin at the opposite side of the room. It went in smoothly, accurately.

The blonde Executioner leaned back a little, having finished the task.

The strange mood brought on by the quiet, methodical way Gunji had treated his injuries faded when he finally spoke up again.

"I don't think we'll be needin' those anymore."

The smile on Gunji's face was somehow different from the delighted sadism present so often on his face. It expressed... relief?

"This is great~"

"You're up now." He traced the white scarring lines across Akira's shoulder. "And these look better, too..."

His eyes flicked over to the table beside the bed, to a large, sharp-smelling bottle of disinfectant, and he wrinkled his nose, "Don't think we'll be needin' any more of that stuff either."

"But..." Gunji looked back to Akira's body with a mischievous look, "We should still get ya cleaned up, Kitty~"

At those words, Akira felt a surge of irritation.

"Don't call me that."

He felt as if he were repeating himself.

He had already said this once to Gunji. That was two weeks ago. After he woke up to the Executioner bandaging his body.

"What was that, Kitty~" Gunji ran his tongue across his teeth, entertained.

Before Akira realized it, he spat out a response to the Executioner...

"Akira."

"Hm." Gunji tilted his head at the correction, taking it as a challenge.

He leaned forward, pulling on the pillows and blankets supporting Akira, and threw them aside, off the bed. Out of the way.

Akira landed on his back without the cushions keeping him upright.

Unsettled by this new position, he tried to sit himself back up but he moved too slowly, still vaguely pained.

Gunji pushed him back down firmly.

"Don't like being on your back?"

A smile spread across his face as he slid his hands lower, down the sides of Akira's body.

"Ya better get used to it."

Suggestively, Gunji pulled Akira's hips closer.

In desperation, Akira threw out an elbow, trying to ram it into Gunji's chest.

When Gunji dodged it easily, Akira shoved his shoulders away, pulled himself upright, and kicked himself back, until he hit the backboard of the bed.

He was out of breath now, from both the panic of resisting and the effort of his movements.

For a moment, they both sat there, watching the other.

Then Gunji spoke up.

"We gotta cleaned up, ya know..."

He also referred to himself, to the bloodstains present on his clothes from the day's patrols. That was the source of the faint smell of iron in the air.

"It'll be dinner soon... And Arbitro likes to have everyone there."

Didn't Akira eat just now, though? He had no more appetite. Why would Gunji have him eat so close to dinner?

Akira found himself pulled back to reality by Gunji's voice.

"That means Kitty's gotta be washed up~"

The steam in the large bathroom was quick to form soon after Gunji turned on the faucet to fill the tub.

Akira sat off to the side, on a stool, refusing to remove the clothes on the lower half of his body.

After Gunji removed his jacket, Akira focused his eyes on the corner of the room, determined to ignore the Executioner.

Suddenly, water fell from above, forcing a gasp of shock out of Akira.

Wha-?

In reflex, Akira looked up to see Gunji holding an upturned bucket standing above him.

"Hey there, Kitty~"

Akira shivered at the absence of warmth. It left his body as the cold water ran down his body.

Gunji kneeled down behind Akira, the tags on his belt clinking. "Now ya really have to take these off."

His hands moved to the fastening at the front of Akira's waist. Akira was quick to grab Gunji's hands.

"I can do that myself."

If he had to take off his clothes, he would rather be the one to do it.

"Hm..." Gunji's hands lingered for a moment, as if he were deciding something, then he leaned back on his heels, giving Akira enough room to take off the pants.

"Don't..."

_...be so close._

His sentence remained unfinished.

Akira felt vaguely embarassed to be doing this in front of the Executioner. It seemed Gunji had gotten the gist of what he had tried to say, and once again, he lingered in place for a moment, before standing up and walking to the other side of the bathroom. He moved to put the bucket away, his back turned to Akira.

"Ya know, Kitty, you ain't got nothin' I haven't seen before."

Akira clenched his jaw when he was addressed. Gunji's voice was teasing in the uncomfortable heat of the room, irritatingly so.

He knew that fact well enough himself. His clothes and bandages had been mysteriously changed from time to time, and by now, he figured that Gunji must have been the one to do those things.

After taking off his clothes, while Gunji's back was still turned, Akira slid into the large tub now filled with hot water. He didn't want to be out in the open in the bathroom like this, with a guy like that.

The heat of the water relaxed him somewhat and let himself sink into it until only his neck and up were above the water. He closed his eyes and tried to forget about the situation he was in. He hoped the Executioner would be done with whatever he was doing and leave soon.

His eyes remained closed until he heard a vague shuffling sound. He looked up.

Gunji had reached over his back and was pulling off his own shirt.

No. Way.

Akira sank himself deeper into the water. He closed his eyes again and knitted his eyebrows. No way. He wasn't going to get in here too, was he?

Akira listened closely, hoping to hear the sound of the shower, instead. Hoping that Gunji would be doing something else other than what he was thinking he was about to do.

His shoulders tensed, and his eyes flew open when he heard the Executioner's voice right next to him.

"Hey, Kitty. Move over a bit."

Akira absolutely did not want to move. There was no way he'd be able to face the Executioner sitting in the water across from him. He cursed the fact that the tub's size was enough to hold the both of them.

He didn't want to move. But still. It felt as if he couldn't refuse.

After debating with himself for a seemingly long moment, Akira pulled in his legs, making sufficient room on the other side of the tub.

Akira was confused when the Executioner didn't make a move to get in the tub.

"Hm~" Gunji let out a subdued laugh under his breath.

His hands moved to Akira's back and firmly pushed. Akira slid forward easily in the water.

No way.

He was going in this way?

Before he knew it, Gunji was sitting behind him.

Like this, at least he wouldn't have to face the Executioner, but in most ways, this was worse.

Although the tub was large, the two of them in it left little room for movement without bumping into each other.

The Executioner, although lean, was tall and took up most of the room.

Akira's slighter frame was nested inside Gunji's embrace, arms locked around his waist. He had no choice in the matter. From the way Gunji held onto him, their bodies were in very close proximity. With the Executioner so close, Akira could hardly relax in the hot water anymore.

"So tense..." Gunji observed.

Akira didn't respond. He just wanted the bath to be over. The sooner he could move away, the better.

But Gunji had no intention of letting that happen any time soon.

"Ya know..."

He leaned in closer.

"Right now, I really wanna do ya."

His face was right next to Akira's, his nose brushing against his jaw. He pressed his cheek to Akira's, nuzzling his face.

Akira fidgeted in his arms.

"I said I wouldn't hurt ya anymore, so don't worry..."

His hands began to move down, reaching Akira's hips.

Reflexively, Akira flinched away.

"Ya know, if ya don't relax, this'll hurt."

Gunji's hands slid even lower.

This time, Akira caught his wrists, stopping Gunji's advances.

"Hm...?"

Gunji pulled Akira closer, and the short distance between them closed, Akira's back making contact with Gunji's chest. "Don't wanna?"

Obviously.

Akira pulled in a shocked intake of breath when in one quick motion, Gunji turned him around and pushed him against the edge of the tub. Water splashed out from the abruptness of the movement.

"Well, that's too bad... 'cause I do."

From this position, Akira could see Gunji's face clearly.

Any semblence of restraint was absent - not that there was any to begin with.

His eyes were locked with Akira's, sending a clear message. His mouth was parted, tilted upwards. His face was faintly flushed, probably from the unbelievable heat from the water and room and their bodies.

Akira's hips were pinned down firmly by Gunji's hands, anchored in place so that he couldn't move away.

There wasn't enough room. The tub wasn't wide enough to give Akira's legs adequate space, forcing him to bend his knees.

And Gunji was quick to move into the space between them.

"Hey, Kitty~" Gunji nipped at the tip of Akira's nose.

"It's pretty hot in here..."

Akira shut his eyes and turned his head away.

He accepted it.

He already knew what this had been leading up to.

Gunji hadn't done anything with him since that hateful encounter in the alley. And he had bought himself enough time.

There... really was no getting out of this.

His arms, which were framed against Gunji's shoulders, the only barrier keeping the distance between himself and the Executioner, relaxed.

He swallowed a frustrated sob.

It was going to be rough. And painful.

"Hey, Kitty."

Curiously, Gunji hadn't made a move yet.

Akira, wondering why, opened his eyes and glanced up at the Executioner.

Gunji's expression was unreadable, his mouth no longer tilted upwards in a grin.

"What... What's with that expression?"

Gunji's voice was unsure, very uncharacteristic of him.

A bitter feeling welled up in Akira's chest.

"Oh, I forgot."

Akira finally spoke up for the first time since they went into the bathroom.

"You like it when they scream and cry, right? Whern they try to run away."

Akira found himself recalling memories from their first encounter.

He clenched his jaw, and his voice almost broke, "Well, there's nowhere for me to run now. And you'd just do what want."

Akira stopped talking and averted his eyes.

Although Gunji was not cutting him physically, his mental state could only take so much strain.  
>Akira felt defeated. Vulnerable.<p>

There was a near zero chance of escaping the mansion.

And he hated it.

But what could he do?

Nothing.

All he could do now was shut his eyes and wait for it to be over.

So he did.

For a moment. a silence stretched between them.

Then, Gunji abruptly let go.

Akira looked back at the Executioner, whose expression was still unreadable. This was unusual for him.

Gunji moved to the other end of the tub and picked up two towels off the side.

"It's about time for dinner, anyway."

From this angle, Akira couldn't see Gunji's face.

The blonde Executioner threw a towel at Akira, taking him by surprise.

It covered his head and shoulders, blocking his view. Before Akira could raise his hands to take it for himself, Gunji roughly ruffled his hair for him with the towel.

An errant thought entered Akira's head of its own accord.

This must be why Gunji's hair seemed so damaged.

Akira heard the sounds of the tub draining.

Strangely, Gunji said nothing else as he took the towel and wrapped Akira's body with it.

Hardly dry himself after throwing his own towel aside, Gunji pulled on jeans and a hooded jacket. Then, he handed a silently observing Akira a set of clean clothes. Another hoodie. And shorts.

Finally, Gunji spoke, facing away from Akira.

"Hurry up, K-"

Gunji cut himself off abruptly. Then finished his sentence.

"'Bitro won't like it if we're late."

After Akira finished pulling on the oversized hoodie, Gunji glanced back at him.  
>"Just... don't eat anything."<p>

Akira looked up.

Don't eat anything?

It wasn't as if he were still hungry. Quite the opposite actually. But why not?

Suspicion crept back into Akira's head.

With those words, Gunji slid open the bathroom door.


	5. Apathetic Pretense

Akira found himself following Gunji's back again.

The slowed pace and constant subtle over-the-shoulder glances were the same as earlier.

Honestly, Akira was very confused by the Executioner's behavior.

At first, he was afraid of Gunji's unpredictability, and Gunji really did do things he didn't expect. But.

Those actions were mismatched with the Executioner's image. Very much in contrast.

To the point where just being in the same room with Gunji was exhausting.

Everything he seemed to do was so far-flung from what Akira expected

He expected much more pain, violence, oppression - things like those - in the company of someone like Gunji.

But he felt none of those.

Had something significant happened in the two weeks he had no memory of?

Or was he just overthinking it?

This just might be a real serious case of Stockholm Syndrome...

As Akira's head began to ache, his expression tensed a bit, and he raised a hand to hold onto his forehead.

Then, he ran into the Executioner.

Surprised, he looked up, but they were too close for him to properly see Gunji's face.

Rough hands closed over the hand Akira held to his head.

"Ya know... If ya can't walk, then say so."

His voice should have sounded harsh, but somehow, it didn't come across that way.

Akira let out a curt exhale and smoothed out his expression.

"I can walk on my own."

He tugged his hand out of Gunji's grip.

After a short pause, as if he wanted to say something, Gunji closed his mouth and turned again to continue walking.

-

Everyone in the dining room turned their attention to the entrance made by Gunji and Akira.

By everyone, that was Arbitro and Kiriwar. Arbitro sat at the head of the table, and Kiriwar was in the chair adjacent, tipping it back almost precariously, with his feet up on the edge of table.

From the scene, it looked as if Arbitro had been in the middle of telling Kiriwar off for kicking his feet up. But the two immediately settled down when the newcomers to dinner arrived. Kiriwar raised an eyebrow at Akira's entrance. Arbitro just smiled, pleasantly, artificially. Akira tried his best to relax when he found himself seated in the chair across from Kiriwar. Arbitro sat to his left.

When Gunji continued walking, making his way to the kitchen, Akira almost found himself hoping that the Executioner would come back soon. At the very least, his presence was more familiar than these two.

Akira sat alone with two of the most feared and influential figures in Toshima.

Three.

Gunji walked back in almost as soon as he'd left for the kitchen. In his hand was a sandwich.

"Oy, Gunji, did you bring me back one?" Kiriwar called out to his partner.

"Make your own, Jiijii." Gunji shot back.

Then, he plopped himself down next to Akira and leaned back in the chair.

This was some dinner, and Akira felt as if he were the one disrupting the normality of it. Arbitro and Kiriwar did nothing to hide their observing stares.

As Kiriwar bit into an apple, Arbitro smiled artificially at him and beckoned at the impressive display of food before him.

"Feel free to partake of anything you like."

Akira's eyes moved to the table. Although he was already full, curiosity drove him to consider try one of the dishes on the table. Steam rose from an appetizing plate of meat. Beside it, there were servings of pastas, an arrangement of fruit, and a bread bowl.

When Akira's gaze stopped on the bread bowl, he noticed something in the corner of his eye, Gunji's eyes were fixed on him.

With that, Akira remembered the blonde Executioner's words.

_Just... don't eat anything._

"No thanks."

_Who knows what you could have put in there?_

It was unspoken, but Akira almost repeated what he had said about his earlier meal.

When Akira's eyes flickered over to the Executioner, Gunji had looked away, having found something interesting about the ceiling.

"Are you sure?" Arbitro tilted his head. "I'm sure you've never tasted any one of these before. Help yourself."

"No thanks." Akira refused again. "I already ate."

When Arbitro raised his eyebrows questioningly, Gunji's voice entered the conversation.

"Yeah. He already ate."

This attracted the attention of even the distracted Kiriwar.

There was something strange in the air.

What was with this whole food thing?

"Ya could probably make me a whole fucking dress with all that lace." Gunji leaned back in chair, contrastingly casual in comparison with his voice, "Pochi was practically squirmin' from all the drugs in there."

"Kau?" Arbitro stood up, infuriated, "Gunji, what did you-?"

Arbitro was at a loss for words. He just stood there, stewing in irritation.

And Kiriwar, silent the entire time, looked amused by the whole scenario.

Arbitro just held a hand to his temples and sighed.

"Kiriwar." He called out to the other Executioner. "Could you bring him into the kitchen for a moment?"

He was referring to Akira.

"Yeah, sure." Kiriwar responded, tossing his apple aside and picking up Mitsuko, the heavy metal pipe leaning against the edge of the table. The legs of his tilted chair dropped down, properly landing back on the floor.

As he walked over to the kitchen door, even without directly addressing him, it was obvious that he beckoned Akira over.

Without much of a choice, Akira stood up and followed.

This time, it was Gunji's turn to look irritated.

"Eh? No way!"

Arbitro interrupted the blonde Executioner.

"Why do you insist on keeping-?!"

"I caught him." Gunji refuted immediately. "He's mine."

Before the scene could disappear behind the kitchen door, the sight of Gunji's protesting figure vaguely reminded Akira of a immaturely arguing child.

The door swung shut.

Now, Akira was alone with the other Executioner, who, just like at the table, made no effort to hide his stare. This was incredibly intimidating to Akira, but he was careful to make no indication of that fact on his face.

As they stood there, silent, Akira had to place a hand on the wall as an anchor to keep himself steady. Out of all people, he did not want to show any vulnerability to this person in particular.

Kiriwar's eyes moved from Akira's face to the white, scarring lines visible on his collar then to his slightly oversized clothes.

As time passed, the silence became increasingly uncomfortable.

He leaned back against the kitchen counter with a cocky smile and let go of the metal weapon, leaving it leaning against the wall beside him. Finally, the dark-haired Executioner's voice sounded in the unsettling space.

"So interesting... I can see why Gunji likes ya so much."

His gaze moved from Akira's body back up to his face. "It's probably those eyes... Damn. You got one sweet face..."

Although Akira knew that he was being complimented, he didn't want to hear it from this guy. There was something dangerous in those appraising eyes.

"And your body's pretty nice, too."

He tilted his head at Akira, "Dunno why, but Gunji's not too keen on sharin' ya. He's been gettin' pretty weird lately."

Akira shifted closer to the wall, uncomfortable.

Although Gunji and Arbitro were still in the other room, there were only a few meters of space between him and the other Executioner.

Kiriwar continued to talk, "Gunji ain't got much experience with other people - other than killin' them - so you're probably the only thing he focuses on now."

If Kiriwar were waiting for an answer, Akira wasn't giving him one.

"Hey, why don't ya stay with me instead?" Kiriwar had pulled himself away from the counter and began to step towards the unwavering man leaning against the wall.

Kiriwar now leaned over the Akira. He placed an arm on the side of the wall closest to the only exit to the kitchen. The other hand was lazily tucked into the front pocket of his jeans.

"Ya know... I'm a lot more fun than Gunji."

Akira's breathing had stopped in anticipation. He was trapped against the wall, with little space to move, even though Kiriwar hadn't touched him yet.

"What do ya say... Kitty?" He mocked Gunji's words.

In that moment, the door opened, and Kiriwar's attention shifted. From this position, Akira couldn't see who it was, but he had an idea from the voice that came from the same direction. A strange sense of relief rose in his chest.

"Jiijii."

"What?" Kiriwar made no move to back off, a challenging smile spreading on his face.

After a tension-filled moment. Kiriwar stepped back and picked up his metal weapon, all the while not taking his eyes off the blonde Executioner.

"Haha... Have fun." He laughed under his breath as he strided out the door.

Gunji's eyes lingered on the swinging door for a moment before moving towards Akira, still against the wall.

In one quick movement, he grabbed Akira's forearm and pulled him along as he took a faster pace back down the hall. Akira could barely keep up.

-

When the door slammed behind them, Gunji threw Akira into the bed. This was nothing like what he'd done before.

This was more of what Akira had expected would happen to him when he found himself trapped in the mansion.

His legs hung over the end of the bed, and in an attempt to get back up, he propped himself up on his elbows, only to be pushed down again by Gunji.

"What did he do?"

Gunji stood in front of the bed, leaning over him and pressing his hands on Akira's forearms, locking him in place.

When Akira didn't answer, he asked another question, his grip tightening, "Where'd he touch ya?"

Akira sucked in a sharp intake of breath as the grip on his arms became painful.

Gunji's grip faltered when he noticed it.

"Nowhere." Akira answered back. "He didn't touch me."

That part was true.

Akira's gaze flickered to side as he finished with a lie, "Nothing. He did nothing."

His eyes widened when Gunji grabbed the bunched up cloth at his abdomen and pushed it up.

"What about here then?"

Gunji's expression was unreadable.

Akira repeated himself, more urgently now, "He didn't go there. He didn't do anything."

When Akira sat himself up, he found himself shoved backwards, now thrown back onto the center of the bed.

"You're mine, Kitty."

Gunji had moved even closer to him, his hands and knees on the bed, too.

Akira figured that there was nothing he could do to make the situation worse, so he brought his arms up defensively against Gunji and hissed, "I'm not yours. And I said... Don't call me that."

With those words, he shoved Gunji's chest, "Don't. Touch. Me."

A stinging feeling in the back of his throat formed as he recalled an unpleasant memory.  
>"Just because you caught me back then and..."<p>

He shut his eyes for a moment and drew in a hard, shuddering breath, then resolved himself, looking back at the Executioner's face, "... doesn't make me your 'cat!'"

Akira threw all his hate of the memory of that painful forced act behind the glare and struggled to bring his sped-up breathing under control. He clenched his jaw as involuntary tears had begun to form in his eyes. He shut them tightly, stubbornly willing them to go away.

Not now. Now wasn't the time. He hadn't meant to get this worked up.

He had just gotten too wound up from everything that had been happening to him recently.

Akira's expression twisted, He turned his head aside, trying to press it into the bed, but there was no hiding from the Executioner at this distance.

Akira just clenched his jaw harder, finding himself unable to stop shaking.

And in the midst of all this, the Executioner had quieted and stilled.

This was what he loved the most, right?

Prey that ran away. Cried. Screamed. And here he was, giving Gunji just that.

His mask of strength fell away. It had been crumbling for a while now. Ever since he had come to Toshima. Little events had chipped at that apathetic pretense and now that it had finally fallen apart, he couldn't stop himself from shaking.

He must seem so weak and pathetic to this Executioner, who likely never experienced any kind of pain, so strong and brutal and detached from the world and people around him.

What was going to happen now? What was Gunji going to do? Those questions had dominated his mind for the past few days.

The uncertainty frightened him. He could no longer deny it to himself now.

The strength he exercised in the CFC, his status as a Blaster champion, they did nothing for him here.

So... what now?

Akira flinched back when he felt the Executioner's touch. Gunji pulled back for a second, as if he were hesitating, then suddenly grabbed Akira, pulling him close.

Akira's head moved into the space between Gunji's neck and shoulder, and his arms were trapped between them, still up, but were now folded firnly against the Executioner's chest.

One of Gunji's arms reached around Akira's back, a hand pressed into the space between his shoulder blades. The other rested higher, at the nape of his neck, his hand in Akira's hair.

Akira shrank back. At the moment, the last thing he wanted was to be close to the Executioner.

At first, Gunji relented a bit, but then, he pulled Akira in even tighter.

-

They stayed like that for a while.

Gunji thought it would take longer for the guy to calm down, but it seemed that exhaustion had taken over. And now he slept, still held so close to his body.

_Akira._

That was his name.

Akira's body fit in so comfortably beside his own, so even after he fell asleep, Gunji kept him there.

He had moved his hand between Akira's shoulder blades in what he thought was a comforting manner, and he rustled his hair lightly. So soft compared to his own.

Gunji found himself slowly relaxing too as he breathed in the pleasant smell coming off the Akira's hair.

He looked down at the his face. His pale skin seemed to be illuminated even in the dimness of the room. His eyes were closed, and his dark eyelashes contrasted against the strained skin underneath. A long nose followed down to lips slightly parted in sleep. His cheeks were slightly obscured by messy hair.

This guy was really beautiful.

Gunji could appreciate that. And that was why those sharp expressions made such an impact on him.

The arm he had slid under the hoodie to reach inbetween his shoulders touched warm, smooth skin, vaguely marked by the ridges of light scars.

Scars the Executioner himself had given him.

And they were why Akira had been trembling just moments before.

That expression. That expression on his face wrenched something in his chest.

He didn't like it.

Gunji pulled the guy in closer.

He never wanted to see that expression again.

The guy definitely had not forgotten that encounter on the side of the street. And Gunji remembered his own forcefulness in getting what he wanted.

At the time, even though he knew that it must have been incredibly painful for the other guy, he hadn't stopped. He hadn't cared. In fact, he took pleasure in the way Akira arched his back in agony, and he found it amusing to feel his weakening pushes of resistance.

But now… something weighed down heavily on his mind.

He looked down at the person in his arms. The guy was now breathing slowly and steadily, in a much calmer state than earlier.

And an unfamiliar restricting feeling closed around Gunji's chest when he looked at him.

The Executioner closed his eyes and pressed his mouth against the messed up bangs on the Akira's forehead.

_…_

_I…_

_… I'm sorry._


	6. A Ridiculous Game

"Hey!"

A voice that all Igura participants recognized rang out, a sudden silence going over the previously raucous gathering.

"What do the Executioners want here?" One man spoke in a low voice.

"Yeah… isn't this a neutral zone?"

The participants spoke in hushed tones as a familiar figure with a garish pink hoodie and a belt with clinking tags strided in. He seemed not to notice the muted effect his presence had on the gathered participants, instead appearing to be looking for something. And each one of the participants froze, anticipating being called out

"Is he by himself? Where's Kiriwar?" An incredulous whisper.

The appearance of only one Executioner was puzzling.

"Oh!" Gunji straightened up, a grin spreading on his face as he seemed to have found what he was looking for.

He strided up to the dealer's desk, his bandaged hand reaching into his back pocket. All eyes were on the bladed weapon attached to his knuckles. Then, as Gunji stopped, his hand slammed onto the dealer's desk with a loud clink.

"Hey, hey, I want five of those~" Gunji declared.

The dealer should have been commended for his ability to recover his composure quickly.

"Which?"

"Um…" Gunji tilted his head as if still trying to decide.

He looked as if he were an indecisive child at a candy store.

"The omurice ones." His hand ran over the tags, most of them bloodied. "This is enough, right?"

The dealer, quick to count, answered, "You can keep twelve of those-"

Gunji expression darkened a bit, annoyed, as if it were too much trouble to put away the tags back away, "Huh…? Just takeit then."

On the spot, he picked one of the solids up and bit into it. At the taste, he raised an eyebrow, "Huh… it isn't even all that great."

Then he shrugged.

Gunji's grabbed the solids and lifted his hand off the tags with a grin back on his face, "Thanks, Gramps!

As suddenly as he had entered, he left, having gotten he had come for.

...

...

...

It was too hot. When Akira shifted, he heard the sound of a harsh rustle. All at once, his consciousness came back to him, and he sat up immediately, But he was alone in the room, half of his blanket flung onto the floor. The harsh rustle… Akira looked down to see four solids sitting on his lap. He picked one up. Omurice-flavored.

Akira had hardly had an appetite since being taken to the mansion, rather the sight of the familiar wrapped solid made him eased his anxiety a bit. Immediately, he unwrapped one and bit down. It wasn't nearly as good as the food he had the night before, but the solid had its own appeal to Akira. A bitter reminder of his life before he encountered Gunji.

His mood immediately soured at remembering last night's events. How humiliating. And out of all people to witness that, it was the Executioner. After only half finishing the omurice-flavored solid, Akira put it aside.

He pulled at the collar of his long-sleeve, realizing that he hadn't changed his clothes since yesterday. He corrected himself mentally. Gunji's clothes. When did the Executioner wear these clothes, anyway? Akira could hardly imagine the tattooed, pierced, bloodied Executioner in anything that wouldn't show off his intimidating stature. Either way, his clothes had magically changed. And neither had his bandages. Not that he had any bandages anymore.

Akira lowered his head onto his hands, sitting up forward a little more. Why did every moment that he spent with the Executioner irritate him so much? Rather, he was angry at himself. For getting caught. For being taken advantage of. Why did things turn out this way? The false accusation. Being sent to Igura. And then getting caught by an Executioner.

Breaking out of his thoughts, Akira noticed that at least his body hardly hurt anymore. His wounds had healed up well. But he was sweating a bit. And the reason why it was so hot was because of the light coming through the open window. At that realization, Akira pulled himself off the bed.

He stepped up to the large, open window. He had almost given up on the idea of escaping, but it was hard to ignore the possibility now that it was in front of him. Looking over the ledge, Akira took in a sharp inhale. A jump from this height would definitely be impossible without the risk of serious injury.

Just as Akira, thought that to himself, the sound of a door opening turned his head. He jumped back from the window a good distance, knocking into a dresser.

"Oh?"

The door was half-open, Gunji holding the knob on the other side.

"Awake?"

Akira stood guarded a good distance away from the Executioner, pressing himself close to the dresser. However, Gunji made no indication of moving closer. Instead, he stood there, closing the door behind him.

Then Gunji walked forward, stopping in front of Akira.

"What? Are ya lookin' for somethin'?" His eyes flicked over to the dresser.

Although Gunji spoke as informally as ever, it wasn't the loud, careless voice Akira was used to.

When Gunji reached his arm out, Akira stepped back automatically. Gunji pulled out a drawer, taking out something. He half-expected Gunji to tackle him down to change his clothes.

"Here."

He held out a bundle of clothes towards Akira. After a brief moment of hesitation, Akira took them. Gunji turned around, facing his back to Akira, and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Get changed."

Akira looked up in surprise when the Executioner faced away from him, as if it were some semblance of politeness. Even though they were both guys. Either way, Akira did feel much more comfortable without the Executioner's stare.

He reached both arms over his back and pulled off the long-sleeve. Looking at the bundle of clothes, he was relieved to see that there were briefs, too. Akira changed quickly, still uncertain of Gunji's motives.

He paused for a brief moment after picking up his clothes, for the first time, initiating an exchange with the Executioner.

"Where do I...?"

Gunji turned his head to the side to see that Akira had changed then faced him.

"The bathroom's over there."

Oh. He should have remembered from last time. Akira walked over to toss his clothes away, trying to ignore Gunji's stare.

As he closed the bathroom door again, he heard Gunji's voice.

"Ah. Ya didn't eat them."

He must have been referring to the solids.

"No..." Akira answered him, unsure as to whether or not he should stay silent. "I ate one. I'm just not that hungry."

"Not that hungry?" Gunji repeated. "So that's why ya ain't got much meat on ya."

Akira stayed silent, still unable to gauge the situation. It was strange to be conversing with the Executioner like this.

"Aw..." His voice held a teasing tone to it. "...And I bought 'em special for ya."

Gunji straightened as if he remembered something. "Ah. Also..."

"Thirsty? I know ya are since you've been out for a while~"

He held out something to Akira. A water bottle. Since when had he been holding it? Akira's eyes flicked to Gunji's hands. He relaxed minutely at the fact that the Executioner had no weapons on him. Not wanting to show off his nervousness, Akira stepped forward and reached for the water bottle. Gunji tilted his head subconsciously as Akira approached him. Careful not to touch the Executioner, Akira took the bottle, then immediately twisted the cap open and drank it.

Although he didn't want to admit it, this made him realize just how incredibly hungry and thirsty he was. He downed the entire water bottle in no time. When he finished, he pressed his lips firmly together and looked aside to the omurice-flavored solid he had put aside earlier. There was hardly any point to hiding his hunger anymore.

"Haha... I knew it~" A grin spread across Gunji's face. "Go ahead and eat. They are for ya anyway."

After a little less than a brief moment, Akira was sitting down, solid in hand, silently munching. Looking pleased at the Akira's considerably more relaxed demeanor, Gunji sat himself down on the floor across from Akira. Even though they were a good couple of meters apart, Akira couldn't relax with the Executioner's attention on him.

What was with this situation anyway? It was pretty obvious that Gunji was trying to get him relaxed. But for what reason? Up till now, Akira didn't understand a single motive behind the Executioner's behavior. Unless this was actually the norm for Gunji. Would it be a stretch?

Akira had started on his third solid when Gunji finally said something.

"Hey."

Akira flinched, then reprimanded himself mentally at his own reaction. Seriously, he couldn't relax at all.

Was it just his imagination, or did Gunji hesitate?

A second later, Gunji continued, "Like it?"

Akira looked at the Executioner, trying to figure out if it were a genuine question.

"I guess..." He answered carefully, without investing in an actual conversation.

"Oh?" Gunji's interest peaked. "So you really do prefer these?"

Then he crossed his arms, as if in thought. "Hm... but they don't taste all that great at all, though..."

It was something Akira picked up on; Gunji's presence was impossible to ignore, which was what made him such an effective Executioner. The entirety of his appearance, his flashy tattoos, his piercings, his stature, was eye-catching, but it was also the way he moved. Each expression and gesture was exaggerated and relaxed and confident. For obvious reason. As strong as he was, Gunji had no reason not to be confident. It was intimidating even to Akira, who had had a lot of experience in fighting and measuring his opponents as the Blaster champion.

But that was back in the CFC. As Motomi had told him, Blaster was an entirely different world from Igura, where you could be killed in a match, just like that.

Truly, both the Executioners were amazing in their own way, able to hold the fear of every Igura participant and even put down the ones drugged up on Line. But not much could be said about their moral boundaries.

Akira could never forget what Gunji was capable of.

Remembering that Gunji still watching him, Akira quickly relaxed his troubled expression.

He didn't want to give up to being held captive at the mansion. If he were going to escape, short of breaking his legs jumping out the window, he was going to have to play along, despite not knowing the Executioner's intentions.

"...Where...Where did you get these?" He spoke up.

"...Hn?" Gunji looked genuinely surprised to hear Akira's voice, but he quickly got to answering. "Ah... What do is it called? ...Neutral zone...?"

Akira coughed. It must have been a sight to see an Executioner there. He could only imagine what kind of scene it had caused.

"Eh...? What?" Gunji looked at Akira.

"Nothing." Akira mumbled through another bite.

Raising an eyebrow, Gunji continued, "Yeah... so it was that hotel."

Akira knew exactly which one Gunji was talking about. The one where Motomi and Rin usually met up, aside from the neutral zone at the bar. Gunji barging into a neutral zone. It was almost funny.

"What?" Gunji leaned forward. "Somethin' funny?"

"No."

"Hm~" He sat back, leaning his weight onto his arms, with an amused expression.

Not wanting to sit in silence again, Akira brought up something else, "Do you only ever wear that?"

He was referring to the jacket, belt, and black jeans he'd only ever seen Gunji wear.

"Oh? This?" Gunji pulled at his jacket. "It's uniform~ I've got more than one set."

Akira couldn't tell whether or not the Executioner was joking.

"I've got other stuff, too, but I don't really wear 'em."

Gunji grinned at Akira. "What? Ya wanna see me in somethin'else?"

"That's not…"

Unfazed, Gunji stood up. "Well, I've got plenty of other stuff, too…"

"Hm~" He yanked out a bunch of clothes from the dresser. "Then~ what about this?

Gunji slid off his jacket and pulled on a long-sleeve.

"Ta da~"

He looked at Akira expectantly. "So… how is it?"

A dark blue long-sleeved shirt, paired with his black jeans, belt, and tags. Although, it covered up most of his tattoos, he still looked pretty much the same. He just didn't stand out as much without the garishly colored jacket.

After a moment of silence, Gunji tilted his head, seemingly haven gotten the gist of what Akira thought through his expression. "Figured it wouldn't make much of a difference… Then..."

Akira looked curiously at the Executioner as he slid off his belt.

"Hm… Not enough, huh…" Gunji looked down at himself.

It was surreal to see the Executioner take such a simple task so seriously. Turning his back to Akira, Gunji pulled something out of another drawer... and tied back his hair.

"So..." With an exaggerated twirl, he turned back to Akira. "What d'ya think? Does it suit me?"

Gunji, with his aggressive confidence, had always given off an intimidating air in his usual outfit. With his bladed knuckles, he was the nightmare of every Igura participant.

In these plain clothes, he almost looked like a different person. The long-sleeve covered his tattoos, and his rough hair was loosely tied back so that Gunji's face actually visible. Even though his presence was somewhat muted, the clothes did nothing to hide his imposing stature, and his now visible expression still gave off a intimidating confidence.

It took Akira a moment to realize that the Executioner was actually waiting for an answer.

"… Not really." Akira settled for a neutral answer.

"Huh..." Gunji laughed. "Shoulda figured ya'd say that."

"Well then..." Gunji narrowed his eyes mischievously at Akira. "Why don't ya do it, too?"

Do what?

In the next moment, the Executioner was kneeling in front of the sitting Akira. He held his jacket in one hand.

"Dress-up~"

Then Gunji lunged forward.

"Wha-" Akira fell back as his shirt was yanked off.

There was hardly enough time for him to react. Although he was pushed down to the ground, it didn't feel as if he were being assaulted. It was more like a ridiculous game, at least to Gunji.

Gunji held down the struggling Akira, "Hey, don't squirm so much. Can't get this on ya if-"

"I'll do it myself!" Akira raised his voice, bewildered by the Executioner's unexpected actions.

Gunji was grinning from ear to ear, obviously having a lot of fun, but let go.

Akira, after taking a moment to recover, pulled on the jacket and zipped it up, to appease the Executioner. It hung a bit loosely on his body.

Gunji sat back, arms and legs crossed to appraise Akira.

"Huh. No way... It looks way better on ya..." Gunji tilted his head and pouted. "Then~"

Gunji reached back for his belt. Rather than handing it over, he leaned forward and reached around Akira's waist to fasten it. That was what Akira had expected. So this time he stayed still.

Gunji let go of the loosely fastened belt and looked at his handiwork on Akira. "Haha... cute~"

Then he caught Akira's eyes, gesturing at his own outfit.. "Isn't this what you'd usually wear?"

"... I guess." Akira

"Then, let's switch."

Huh?

"I'll be you, and you'll be me."

Immediately, Gunji's shoulders relaxed, and his expression became serious. A drawn-out moment of silence stretched out between the two of them. After about ten seconds of awkward silence, Gunji spoke up again, a grin returning to his face.

"Hey. Ya have to be me, too."

"Gunji began to coach Akira, miming actions with his hands. "Ya gotta push me around and get in my face…"

"Like this." Gunji tilted his head to look down at Akira. "Then ya gotta grin at me and laugh like this~ Hyaha!"

Gunji imitation of himself was pretty accurate.

"So… you try now." He leaned forward, looking at Akira. "Go on~"

Akira hesitated before the expectant Gunji, not willing to ridicule himself. Then, Gunji reached for his hands. Although the movement was sudden, Akira didn't flinch or pull away. At the moment, Gunji didn't seem to have an ulterior motive. He was messing around just for the sake of playing. If anything, the situation felt incredible ridiculous. Gunji's hands closed around his wrists and pulled Akira in closer, bringing his hands to his hair. He ran Akira's hands through his hair roughly, messing up the tied-back hair.

"Like this." He laughed, "Ya gotta mess me up~"

After Akira's wrists were released, he dropped his hands and retreated. He was unsure of whether or not he should continue playing along with Gunji's games. And even the dense Executioner picked up on that.

"How're ya so pale?" Gunji quickly started a conversation again. "And aren't ya supposed to be some kinda Bl ster champion? You're a pretty small guy."

Akira was taken aback by the question.

"… Ya didn't really kill anyone, did ya?"

"How do you know?" Akira's guard went back up.

Did Gunji know about his reason for coming to Toshima?

Gunji tilted his head, observing Akira's reaction. "Well… 'Bitro likes ya, too."

At the mention of Arbitro, Akira visibly recoiled, his eyes going to the floor, and Gunji immediately quieted, noticing. Then, he leaned forward to say something again. Akira looked up and backed away backwards in the opposite direction. Gunji stopped again, keeping the distance between them, and Akira almost felt bad for reacting that way. There was a pause before Gunji spoke up again.

"Ya don't like 'Bitro or Jiijii…" He stated with a lower voice. "… I'm not gonna do anythin' ya don't like, so…"

"It's fine." Akira interjected.

Gunji sat there silently, as if trying to listen for Akira's thoughts.

The now familiar awkward silence settled in again, but it cut short when Gunji shifted in too close for comfort.

"I think ya need to loosen up a bit."

Gunji's hands moved to Akira's torso.

"Wha-"

Akira was about to kick himself back, but then he squirmed futilely as he felt himself getting poked all over.

"So ya are ticklish~" Gunji grinned, laughing at Akira's reactions.

Akira backed up as much as he could, but there was no room for escape, his back to the edge of the couch. Squirming, he could barely keep his voice down anymore.

"Pff…Stop…haha…" He started laughing, an involuntary reaction.

Spurred on by Akira's reaction, there was no way Gunji was going to stop now. As Akira struggled, he brushed aside Gunji's hands.

"Seriously… Stop already!"

With those words, Gunji let up, leaving Akira sitting back, trying to catch his breath. As Akira realized the absurdity of the situation, he burned up, whether with anger or embarrassment, he wasn't sure. He looked up at Gunji.

"Hehe. Cute~" Gunji stared at Akira's face.

Akira looked away, irritated, even though he wasn't in a position to be.

"I like the way look when you're all angry and stuff, but just now..." Gunji stopped and just grinned, raising his hands up, threatening to tickle him again

Akira threw a sharp glare at the Executioner and shifted back.

"Yeah, yeah...I get it..." Gunji lowered his arms, disappointed but conceding. "But ya gotta let me do that again sometime."

What was up with this guy? Akira had absolutely no idea what was in Gunji's head. Every single thing he did was motivated by pure impulse. He was so unpredictable.

"Are ya still hungry?" Gunji asked.

"...Huh?"

Again. Going off on a completely unrelated topic.

"To the kitchen~" Gunji jumped up.

When Akira took too long to get up, Gunji hoisted him up.

"Up, up we go..."

At this point, Akira didn't even care anymore. Gunji had absolutely no reservation.

"Dunno what's so special about those solids. They don't even fill ya up"

Gunji led the way out the room, looking Akira up and down. "...Looks like ya need some meat anyway."

A nearby guard, at the corner of the hall, stiffened upon seeing the Executioner. It looked as if he were about to look away, but his stare lingered, despite his fear. Akira was aware of the guards' eyes on him as he followed Gunji through the halls while Gunji seemed not to notice at all, humming to himself while keeping an eye on Akira at his side. Akira assumed it must have been their strange attire. After all, he was wearing Gunji's bright jacket, albeit zipped up, and Gunji had his hair tied and his tattoos covered up.

Did Gunji even have a sense of self-preservation? The stares made Akira uncomfortable.

"Oh."

A lower voice made Akira freeze in place. Out of all people they could run into...

"Jiijii." Gunji had also turned to face his partner. "Hey, I forgot to tell ya. I'm not goin' on patrol later today."

"Huh?" Kiriwar glanced at Akira. "Not takin' him on a walk, are ya?"

"Just don't feel like it. And it's fine if it's just today, right?" Without waiting for an answer, Gunji grabbed the sleeve of Akira's jacket and pulled him along.

"Bye bye, Jiijii~" Gunji waved. "Cover for me, 'kay?"

Surprisingly, Kiriwar only raised an eyebrow, letting them go without protest. Until they turned the next corner, Akira felt the other Executioner's curious stare.

And so the day continued, just like that, with Gunji dragging Akira down the halls of the mansion.


	7. Something Like Rejection

Gunji was careful not to wake the sleeping Akira as he left for the morning patrol of Toshima. He slid out of the bed, slipped on a hoodie and jeans, and strapped metal blades onto his knuckles. As he reached for the door, he paused for a moment to take a look back at the bed.

Even now, the guy looked on edge. His expression was tense, still not entirely relaxed even in sleep.

Still.

Yesterday, that was the first time Gunji had seen Akira smile.

Gunji hadn't had some semblance of a normal conversation with anyone for a long time. Kiriwar, Arbitro, he couldn't talk to. Kau didn't count, and Shiki obviously avoided him. Everyone else ran away. It was interesting to have someone to talk to. Really fun actually.

He wanted Akira to like him. He wanted to see something other than anger or fear or pain on that face. But Akira shrank away from him no matter what he did.

He grabbed the doorknob, swung the door open, and ran into Kiriwar.

"Oh."

Kiriwar raised a brow in mild surprise at the suddenness of Gunji's appearance, "I was just about to kick ya out of bed, but... looks like you're up."

He leaned to the side, a grin pulling at the side of his face, to peek past the door, "Where's that cat of yours?"

Gunji pulled the door shut.

"Let's just get goin' already." The sudden interruption to his thoughts annoyed him.

Kiriwar just shrugged as he followed Gunji down the hall.

…

…

...

Gunji was absent nearly the entire morning and afternoon, having to make up for slacking the entire morning and afternoon, having to make up for slacking the day before, so Akira had a lot of time to think by himself. He even ventured out, a bit reassured that neither of the Executioners were in the mansion.

He had skipped breakfast, but it was too much for him to wait through lunch. The omurice solid and water bottle still left over from yesterday weren't enough. It was surprising how much his appetite had returned. It was probably a good sign that he had recovered, but he didn't want to go through the halls alone.

But would he rather have Gunji there?

He wasn't so sure anymore. Probably not. If he mentioned his hunger... just like yesterday, Gunji would have the almost the entire refrigerator emptied in search of something the apathetic Akira would like. Just thinking of yesterday made his stomach feel sick.

He didn't particularly have anything he found tasty, neither did he dislike anything. He wasn't picky. It was just that he didn't care what he ate, and that was something Gunji couldn't quite grasp. The pointless search for something Akira would eat and say was delicious ended past night when Arbitro complained about the rapidly depleting food supplies. The Executioner was seriously...

Akira sighed out loud and immediately brought his mind back to finding a way out of the maze-like mansion, without getting himself caught. He'd been so distracted just by the Executioner's very presence, and even in absence, Gunji was there, acting like his obnoxious, impulsive self. It was a very strange dynamic, the contrast between the violent, fearsome reputation and the ridiculous reality that was his actual personality.

Counting the time Akira had been out of it, he'd already been trapped here for three weeks. There was no way he would let himself stay here for very much longer, even if it didn't seem like Gunji was like to hurt him anymore. Get out, find Keisuke, collect enough tags, defeat Il-re, then return to the CFC without the burden of false accusation. At least, that was the plan. Right?

If things did work out so well, he would return back to his usual life in the CFC. Fighting in Bl ster for money to get by. Was living day-to-day, apathetic, like that really what he wanted?

Akira stopped in the middle of the hall. He was seriously overthinking much more often than he should. His own thoughts were starting to get to him.

And... where was he anyway? He wasn't all that familiar with the layout of the mansion. He could forget just attempting to walk out the front entrance if he couldn't even navigate the place.

And finding landmarks were difficult, too. He couldn't tell where he was in the mansion. Just weird statues and locked doors everywhere.

His best bet was to ask. A guard was just down the corridor.

…

…

…

The skies and streets of Toshima were the same as ever. And the reactions to the Executioner's patrol were the usual, fear and submission, as Igura participants stepped aside from the streets.

"Huh?" Kiriwar tapped Mitsuko against his shoulder and tilted his head at Gunji quizzically.

"You sayin' you haven't fucked him yet?"

The crudeness of this statement barely affected Gunji, but the people in the streets, Igura participants and nonparticipants alike, seemed to shrink away from two, after hearing those words.

"Shut up, Jiijii."

Kiriwar let out a low laugh, "Seriously... The hell are you doin'? Didn't you say ya wanted to keep him?"

Gunji just kept walking, not even looking at his partner.

"Ah..." Kiriwar let out an almost frustrated exhale. "What a waste... Oh."

Suddenly, Kiriwar's attention was drawn elsewhere. There were loud jeers and yelling coming from a side street.

"I wonder what's goin' on over there?" A grin crept onto Kiriwar's expression.

The two turned onto the street and were met with the scene of an recently finished Igura match.

One man lay completely on his back, his face ravaged and bloody, and another, the victor, triumphantly pumped his fist into the air. In it, bloodied tags clinked together. The crowd's cheers and boos rose at this action. In the center of the chaos, the ravaged man on the ground forced himself up, unwilling to accept his loss.

"How fun."

When Kiriwar's voice rang out, everyone went silent, having finally noticed the two intimidating presences at the edge of the crowd. Faces of anticipation and pity looked in the direction of the man struggling to stand at the center of the circle.

"Look what we got here..." Kiriwar tilted his head.

Kiriwar, without missing a beat, strided over to the bloodied man in the center.

"The hell? A big guy like you gettin' beaten down?"

Swinging down the metal pipe from his shoulders, Kiriwar flipped the man over on his back.

He looked over his shoulder at his partner, "Hey, what d'ya think, Gunji? Should we let him run or play with him right here?"

"Huh...?" Gunji's eyes flicked over the losing Igura participant absent-mindedly. "... Isn't he half-dead already?"

There was absolute silence. In the distance, a rumble in the clouded skies sounded. Drops of rain were beginning to fall from the sky.

"Really..." Kiriwar eyed his partner curiously, placing a foot on the body of the fallen Igura participant. "'Think so?"

"Yeah."

Everyone's attention was on Gunj, whose loud voice and laughter were absent. He stood there, clawed hands at his sides, seemingly uninterested.

The other Executioner raised an eyebrow quizzically at the tone of voice.

"Huh... How boring..." Kiriwar prodded the still body of the Igura loser with the iron pipe one more time before taking his foot off and striding up to his partner.

"'The hell's goin' on?"

"...What?"

"I don't get you..." Kiriwar tapped the metal pipe against his shoulder.

"...Patrol's pretty much over anyway." Gunji crossed his arms, looking disinterested.

Kiriwar studied his partner's expression before speaking aloud again. "...Yeah, I guess it is."

He looked toward the sky as another rumble of thunder sounded. Rain that had started out as a light drizzle, now began to pour heavily.

"Yeah. It's raining anyway."

As he turned to the other direction, a voice called out from the crowd.

"H-Hey!"

The crowd parted to reveal a young man with short brown hair wearing a worn pair of coveralls. No one wanted to be near the person stupid enough to attract the Executioners' attention.

That guy. Gunji recognized him. He was the one who had always stood next to Akira. Gunji's interest peaked, and he turned to face the guy.

"Ah... um..." It was obvious that the Executioners' attention made him nervous. "... I-I just... wanted to ask something..."

Kiriwar looked him over, letting him talk. Anyone gutsy enough to speak up in this situation was deserving of attention.

The timid guy fidgeted, his brown eyes moving back and forth from the ground to the Executioners. He continued.

"... There was someone else with me, but then, with the tag thief... he ended up running, too..."

That was right. This guy was with Akira at that time.

"B-but he didn't break any rules!" He added immediately.

Kiriwar raised an eyebrow. Both he and Gunji knew exactly who the guy was referring to.

"Could you tell me what happened? Or where he is? I-If you do know..." The guy moved his hand to the back of his neck, still fidgeting.

He looked up at the Executioners for an answer.

Kiriwar stepped closer to the guy, letting out a low chuckle. "Oh. So you're his friend... Ya really wanna know?"

Kiriwar looked over his shoulder, indicating at Gunji.

"Why don't ya ask him?" His amused grin widened. "He's the one who caught him."

A rumble went through the crowd. Several words were audible among the murmur of the gathered Igura participants.

"Give it up, man." A voice from the crowd sounded

At those words, Keisuke seemed to falter, but then he turned to Gunji, looking for an answer. Gunji's gaze moved from Kiriwar to the expectant person before him.

"He's alive, if ya really wanna know." Gunji spoke.

"Alive?" The guy's ears almost seemed to perk up. "Where... Where is he?"

Gunji didn't seem to want to talk, so Kiriwar spoke up for him. "Where do ya think? He's at the mansion."

"At the mansion...?" The guy frowned.

"Yeah." Kiriwar tapped Mitsuko against his shoulder, savoring the reaction to come. "At the mansion."

"What..?" Light left the guy's eyes as he began to draw his own conclusions.

"Ya don't find a guy like that just anywhere, do ya?" Kiriwar's eyes were on the brown-haired guy, who appeared to become increasingly more troubled.

Kiriwar laughed, " Haha... Ya can relax a little. Arbitro didn't get to him."

He continued, tilting his head in the direction of the other Executioner, "...Gunji's taken a liking to him."

A murmur of unrest ran through the crowd. It was no longer silent. Gunji's gaze flickered over them before it came back to the guy with the brown hair before him. His expression wasn't hard to decipher. There was no doubt he was thinking of what might have happened to his friend. Although his eyes were uncertain before, they were unwavering now, staring, almost glaring, straight at Gunji. He had a bit of fight in him. The guy stepped forward after a clipped moment of hesitation.

"You're the Executioners, so you enforce the rules of Igura, right? … Akira didn't break any rules, so..." He took in a breath as if to brace himself. "Can't you just let him go?"

By this point, snickers mixed with looks of either pity or horror came from the crowd. What this guy was asking of the Executioners was ridiculous.

Kiriwar raised an eyebrow. "Let him go?"

He broke into laughter and then turned halfway back around to Gunji, "Hey, Gunji. He's yours, isn't he? Ya wanna just let him go?"

_He's yours, isn't he?_

Those words only seemed to affirm the guy's fears. He stepped back, his eyes wide. Then his expression hardened, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.

"Akira..." His previously timid demeanor began to give way. "What did you do to Akira?"

The boldness of that question rang out in the tense air. Everyone was watching the unusual scene unfolding with uninterrupted attention. And Kiriwar standing off to the side seemed to be thoroughly entertained with what was playing out.

For the first time, Gunji didn't have anything to say.

"Whoa... How interesting..." Kiriwar tilted his head towards Gunji, "Doesn't he kinda remind ya of that guy?"

His eyes sharpened in amusement. "… The way he likes to fight back, I mean."

This only served to stoke the other guy's anger. "What the hell did-!"

"Keisuke!" Suddenly, another voice rang out. A higher one.

A short, blonde guy shoved through the crowd and grabbed onto the guy's – Keisuke's – arm.

"Please excuse us." The blonde guy bowed his head, pulling Keisuke behind him. "So sorry... He's just a little worked up right now."

The two backed up, moving closer to the gathered Igura participants at their backs.

Keisuke spoke but was immediately cut off. "Rin-"

"Wanna get yourself killed?" The blonde guy hissed back at him in a hushed tone as he pulled Keisuke away.

With that, Gunji turned his back.

"Hey, Jiijii, we're already pretty late." He addressed Kiriwar with the nonchalant, crude tone he usually used. "I'm goin' back already."

"Hm?" Kiriwar didn't seem too reluctant to leave, but he gave the two at the edge of the crowd one final look before he turning to stride away.

…

…

…

"...Thanks." Akira didn't really know what to say to the guard.

Although they looked numerous from the outside, he'd been in the mansion long enough to recognize some of them. This one was young and had short black hair. He'd seen him a couple of times before, while following Gunji in the halls.

The guard only nodded then walked off, leaving Akira at the door to Gunji's room. It was funny how he assumed that was what Akira was looking for. It didn't matter anymore though. He wouldn't get anywhere by getting himself lost in the mansion again.

Akira shut the door behind him and walked over to sit on the bed. It didn't look like he'd completely recovered yet. It felt like he used a lot of energy just walking around the halls. He thought about resting as he looked down at the bed, but something nagged at him.

It was clear from their interactions that the Executioner had neither a sense of shame nor an idea of preservation. That was exactly why Akira had been so intimidated earlier on, while he was still in too much pain to do anything about it. He seemed to have no reservations about clinging to Akira while sleeping. But Akira minded. He didn't have much of a choice when he was injured, and he didn't care then since he needed the rest. But. Did they have to sleep in the same bed? He could never forget that encounter. Even though Gunji seemed different now, he was still the one who forced him down back in that alley.

That was why he needed to escape.

In the corner of the room, Akira spotted something familiar. He thought Gunji would've thrown it out by now.

He stood up, confirming that it was his shirt. It was the one he wore when Gunji forced him into...

Just remembering it stirred up anxiety and a vague feeling of panic in him. The shreds on the shirt. It was easy for him to trace where they were scars on his own body, now a faint echo of the damage Gunji had done, enjoying it the entire time. Still, they were there. The only thing missing was his blood. The stains were gone, washed out. Bitter, Akira almost laughed under his breath. The Executioner probably had a lot of experience with taking out bloodstains.

And just at that moment, footsteps sounded in the hallway just outside the door.

Akira had dropped his old shirt, returning it to where he found it, when Gunji entered the room. The Executioner's clothes were soaking wet. But that wasn't what caught Akira's attention. It was the fact that there was no blood anywhere on him.

No rule breakers...?

It was raining pretty heavily outside, so it made sense that he would be so drenched but... He should have come straight from one of his irregular patrols through Toshima, with Kiriwar.

Akira repeated his thought. "No rule breakers?"

Gunji had just finished unstrapping the blades from his knuckles, stopping in the middle of unwinding the securing bandages around his hands. His back was to Akira, but then, Gunji turned his head to the side to look at him. Along with the drenched hood still over his head, his wet hair stuck to his cheeks, obscuring his face to Akira and somehow giving him a different air than usual.

He turned around completely to face him, and in a few long strides, he had both his arms on either side of Akira's shoulders. He had moved quickly to back the smaller guy into the wall. At first, Akira kept his eyes away from the Executioner, confused and a bit intimidated, but then...

"Akira."

The sound of his own name caught his attention. Akira hadn't heard someone call him by name for a while. And it was this guy who said it aloud. He looked back to the Executioner, who looked vaguely uncertain. As if he were unsure what to do with the attention Akira had given him.

He repeated the name.

"Akira..."

Akira pressed his back into the wall behind him, not knowing what to expect. What came next, however, shocked him into stillness. Gunji bent down and closed the distance between them.

A hard press onto his lips lasted only for a moment.

Gunji had never done something like this before. He pulled back a short distance, but they were still too close for Akira to see the Executioner's face.

Then, Gunji kissed him again. This whole experience was so bizarre that Akira wondered if he were actually dreaming. Seriously, what was going on? But even through his doubt of reality, Akira kept his lips pressed together and turned his face away.

_No._

His silent refusal rang out in the air between them. Gunji stopped for a second. Uncharacteristic. The image of the Executioner he had in his mind would have no problem taking what he wanted. After a brief moment, one of his hands took Akira's jaw and turned it back again to face him. When their lips met again, this time, the kiss was not as subdued. Gunji tilted his head, leaning into it.

A soft sound came from the Executioner's throat. An exhale. Quiet breaths from the kiss were the only things that filled the silence.

A few seconds passed, and Akira gathered his senses again, getting over the initial shock.

He bit down. Hard.

"Ke-"

The Executioner jerked back.

Was pain an unfamiliar sensation for him? Or was it something else that made him back off?

Akira had gathered his senses back together and shoved the Executioner's shoulders with as much strength as he could gather.

Gunji hardly moved. His head was turned aside, and the hand that had been holding onto Akira's jaw was now on his lower lip, brushing the cut there. A drop of blood fell from his lip and onto the floor, momentarily distracting him.

Then his eyes moved back to Akira's face.

...

The expression on Gunji's face made Akira hold his breath.

He recognized it.

He had seen a variance of this expression on someone else much closer to him.

Slowly, he connected the dots, as Gunji's recent strange behavior began to make sense.

What was on his face was not sadistic glee or anger or violence or detachment. When their eyes met, Akira could read their expression clearly.

He was seeking Akira's approval.

For what?

It never occurred to him that Gunji would be capable of feeling something else other sadistic urges.

But it was obvious in his expression.

Something had changed in those maddened eyes.

For a second, they stayed just like that, unmoving.

To Akira, it almost felt as if Gunji were asking for something, but he didn't know what. So he kept his mouth shut, unwavering, refusing to give Gunji the satisfaction of an answer.

Then, just like that, Gunji broke the stare.

For the first time, he was the one to avert his eyes.

He stepped back from the wall and dropped his arm, releasing Akira.

The strange mood brought on by Gunji's abrupt advance and retreat remained even when he closed the bathroom door behind him, leaving Akira alone with his confused thoughts.

Gunji had made it obvious since the event in the alley, that he was physically superior to him, in stature and in strength. And Akira's currently weakened state only widened that gap.

Akira let his back slide against wall, as he sat himself on the floor

It would have been easy enough for Gunji to force Akira down.

So...

...Why was he acting as if he had been rejected?


	8. Lemons

When Gunji came out of the bathroom, Akira had to say something to cut through the strange tension.

"...I can change into these, right?" Akira reached for a drawer and looked back at the Executioner for an answer.

"...Yeah. Pick out whatever ya want from there." Gunji walked up and pulled out the drawer underneath the one Akira had reached for. "There're more in this one."

"...Thanks."

A short exchange. But Gunji lingered at the drawer as Akira picked out clothes.

"...What?" Akira looked back, and Gunji once again averted his eyes.

"...Forgot to get a change of clothes."

Oh. Gunji was still completely soaked.

Akira handed the clothes he'd picked out for himself then a towel from the same drawer to Gunji.

"Here."

He took them without protest. Akira searched through the drawer again for another set of clothes while Gunji changed at the opposite side of the room.

As Akira pulled on his own clothes – Gunji's – he wondered about something else. He looked over at the Executioner who was now drying off his hair. It had been pouring for a long time, and Gunji had been out there the entire time.

He couldn't catch a cold, could he?

…

Something that had changed recently was that Gunji didn't go to the bed until Akira had fallen asleep. And this night, he did exactly that. Whether it was an act of consideration or Gunji sulking, Akira couldn't figure out. But neither he nor the Executioner brought up what had happened between them just then.

While he was lying down on the bed, he found Gunji occasionally stealing glances at him, even as he cleaned his blades. It didn't take Akira long to realize that Gunji was checking to see if he were asleep. So he rolled over and closed his eyes. He was far from falling asleep, but even the Executioner needed to rest, especially after the cold shower he'd gotten outside.

It wasn't as if he were worried about it, but Gunji really seemed to be...sulking? Something about his expression made him look dejected. But the entire incident... Akira couldn't quite get himself to believe what he'd clearly seen up so close.

…

…

…

And the next day, it was as if nothing had happened between them.

Akira didn't bring it up. Gunji had either forgotten or was pretending that nothing had happened.

He was energetic, even in the early morning, almost impressively so. He dragged Akira off to breakfast. At the very least, his irregular eating and sleeping schedule made it easy for Akira to avoid running into Kiriwar or Arbitro. But it was about to be round two of the search for what Akira liked to eat.

On entering the kitchen, Akira saw something unfamiliar. A fruit? And Gunji, ever so attentive, noticed.

"Ah... See somethin' ya like?" Gunji finally let go of him.

"No-"

"So ya like omurice... and lemonade, too, then~" Gunji observed.

So they were lemons. He knew of them, of course. It was just that they were incredibly rare in the CFC. Akira felt ridiculous for not recognizing them. To add to that, it felt like the Executioner was making fun of him, and it was irritating.

And actually... he'd never tasted lemonade before, let alone lemons.

"...Never tasted lemon before?" Gunji tilted his head at Akira.

For someone so seemingly dense, he was quick to pick up on things.

"...No."

"Really? No way..." Gunji grabbed a knife off the counter. "They're pretty good. Try one."

He rolled the lemon around before chopping it in half.

"Here." He held out one half to Akira.

Eat it just like this? For some reason, Akira felt a bit suspicious, but he took it.

"Go ahead." Gunji urged, watching him intently, holding the other half in his hand.

Gunji found the strangest things to be enthusiastic about.

Unsure of how to go about eating it, Akira brought the fruit to his mouth and bit down, straight into the center.

"...!"

An overpoweringly sour taste filled his mouth, and Akira immediately regretted taking such a big bit. He stuck out his tongue in an effort to get rid of the burning sensation. On the other hand, Gunji was laughing hard, holding his stomach.

"Hyahaha...!" Gunji cracked up at the expression on Akira's face. "So ya really haven't ever...!"

This guy was seriously...

"It's...not that funny-" Akira coughed when the sour taste reached his throat, and that only seemed to make Gunji laugh even harder.

Akira found his irritation reaching a peak. So without thinking, he took the lemon he had just bit into and jammed it against Gunji's mouth. That stopped him pretty quickly.

"...!"

Gunji pulled away, and Akira could see the reddened wound. Gunji didn't say anything as he pressed his hand to it.

"...Ouch." Gunji licked at his lower lip.

The cut had opened and was bleeding. Akira actually felt a bit apologetic. That was incredibly irrational and immature of him.

After a moment, Gunji grinned, only to wince again. "Sheesh, Kitty, ya bite me and then do this."

"..."

Akira felt a bit awkward asking, but...

"Are you okay?"

Gunji looked up at the question then leaned in closer as a mischievous smile spread on his face.

"Dunno, Kitty... Wanna kiss it to make it better~?"

"No."

Gunji still had his hand pressed to his lower lip as he pouted, disappointed.

"Aw... That's no fun at all, Kitty."

At this point, Akira's irritation surfaced again. Gunji was perfectly fine. Why did he even bother asking?

And just then, the kitchen door swung open. Gunji turned to see who entered.

Akira could see Kiriwar taking in the scene – the knife, the cut lemon, Gunji holding his hand to his mouth. And then he went straight for the fridge, taking out a sandwich.

"Hey, Gunji, we're patrollin' later." Kiriwar took a bite. "Don't be late."

He left as soon as he'd entered, throwing another cursory glance over the two, not even bothering to question what they had been doing. Akira had no idea what to think.

"...Anyway. I'm not really hungry." He turned away from Gunji.

"Eh? Why're ya actin' so grumpy? And where're ya goin' anyway?" Gunji followed Akira as he turned.

"Oh." Gunji crossed his arms thoughtfully. "Is it...? Ya don't like bein' called 'Kitty,' right?"

Akira really didn't care at this point.

"Akira." Gunji stated simply, clearly pleased with Akira's involuntary attention to the sound of his name, so he repeated it.

"Akira, Akira, Akira, Akira, Akira~"

"Aren't you going on patrol?" He interrupted.

Gunji stuck out his tongue, challengingly and in an imitation of Akira's earlier reaction to the lemon.

...

Gunji was gone for nearly the entire day. Once again, Akira had only his thoughts to accompany him. He was beginning to think it wasn't so bad here.

Escape had been his priority, but with what Gunji pulled off the night before, he was getting even more confused. At first, he had been struck with the vague sense of despair that it was impossible to escape at all, at least without getting caught again. The CFC was a long and dangerous way from Toshima. He had been getting tired, ready to resign himself to whatever happened to him. But the Executioner was confusing him. He didn't seem nearly as bad as what his reputation had made him out to be. From what he had heard, both the Executioners lacked a basic humanity, making it easy for them to enforce a game as twisted as Igura. Gunji didn't seem like that now.

But. Gunji had caught him back then, isolated and kicked him into a corner in an alley. And then forced him down for his own sadistic urges. It was incredibly painful and the worst sense of futility and helplessness he'd gone through. Not too long ago, Akira had been desperate to escape. And he'd been stricken with the idea that it was impossible. Escape and then what? Find Il-re, the rumored to be invincible drug lord? It was difficult to take down a participant drugged up on Line. Was it even worth it to try to take him down? His name would be cleared, and he would be able to return to the CFC, take his irrational mess of a friend back with him, and return to the normality of his life. He had nothing for him there...but Keisuke.

Where was he now?

At the very least, the Executioner did a lot to distract him. When he was left alone, he could only find himself sinking into an inescapable depression. What did he do to mess up his life this badly? Apathy was no stranger to him, and it would have been much easier for Akira to give up had he not had something holding him back. What nagged at him was the fact that Keisuke had followed him here. Blindly and stupidly. Definitely. But there was no way he would leave him. As close to a friend Akira ever had, there was no way he just give up. At the very least, Keisuke was going back. Keisuke didn't deserve to get pulled down with him. He had to get out of this situation. He'd been idle for too long.

Even if Gunji seemed like a different person now, he was the same person who'd forced him down in the alley way, the same one who'd killed so many out of his own twisted entertainment. What was that last night? Another one of Gunji's whims? It was likely the same as that first run-in that had nearly killed him. Gunji probably just wanted some.

Then why did he stop? Akira really couldn't wrap his mind around the Executioner's motivations. Unless.

No way. Barely a month of narrow interaction couldn't redeem a lifetime of sadistic sociopathy. But.

In that moment, a new door opened in his mind, giving way to an idea that was unthinkable not too long ago. Akira thought up a way for himself to escape.

It felt impossible, even manipulative, but since when had the Executioners cared for anyone else anyway?

It could be his only way out.

It wasn't like he could walk out the front door or the back door... or jump out the windows. Not without being spotted with one of the guards, who'd go straight to Arbitro, the Executioners.

Bitterly, Akira thought to himself that maybe, if he played nice, he would get somewhere.

…

…

...

It had already been dark for an hour before Akira heard the guards letting someone into the mansion. Halfway down the hallway, he realized that it wasn't the Executioners. The hall was too quiet for that.

Shiki.

That cold stare was unmistakable.

The nightmare of the Igura participants, on par with the Executioners' reputation stood before him. Akira expected him to pass by without a second glance. He noted a large suitcase tucked under Shiki's arm.

Did he have business here?

"You." Shiki was addressing him. "You're the small fry from the streets."

Akira found himself almost bristling at that comment. A small bit of fight returned to him at the memory of their face-off.

"What are you doing here?"

Akira refused to answer. Whether it was because it was too difficult to explain or because he wanted to take out his frustration in the form of impudence he couldn't tell. Remnants of his anger showed though his unfaltering glare. It was completely irrational.

"People don't join Igura this late at night." Shiki ticked off a reason. "I thought you already were a participant."

Shiki walked forward, slowly closing the distance between them in the hall.

"I don't see any tags on you.."

He stopped, standing only a meter away.

"Don't tell me that sick man got a hold of you." Shiki looked down at Akira. "But you seem far from broken."

"What are you doing here?" Akira refuted, and at Shiki's immediate silence, he knew he'd touched on something important. "What's in the suitcase?"

Suddenly, Akira felt cold steel at his throat, forcing his head up. He'd definitely touched on something.

"You're definitely far from broken." Under Shiki's words was a cold threat. "What are you doing here?"

A sharp metal clang rang through the air.

"Back off, Shikiti."

An suddenly, Gunji stood between him and Shiki. Both killers' weapons were out in the incredibly tense atmosphere. Even Kiriwar stood behind Shiki, his metal pipe tapping against his shoulder.

How did Akira not notice them?

Shiki was obviously irritated by the Executioners' very presence. He had his katana out, and he stood half-facing both the Executioners on either side of him.

"Gonna do your business with 'Bitro?" Kiriwar remarked, pointing out the object in Shiki's other hand.

Gunji's eyes flickered to the suitcase, he wrinkled his nose in obvious displeasure. "Bleh. That stuff grosses me out."

"Move, dog, and your master'll take it out of my hands." His gaze seemed to get even colder.

"Why don't ya just walk around?" Gunji's eyes narrowed challengingly.

Kiriwar and Akira were only watching the exchange between the two now. It seemed the atmosphere was souring incredibly quickly. Akira quickly looked away from Kiriwar when their eyes met for a brief second in mutual understanding of the situation.

"You seem to be even worse than I remember, dog." Shiki's eyes moved to Akira. "I didn't think you were partial to keeping pets."

At that, Gunji's claws went for Shiki's throat threateningly, but Shiki stepped out of the way, now attacking, too. His eyes flickered to the person behind Gunji. Realization. Akira's mind anticipated, but his body responded a split second too late. The exchange was quick.

In the next moment, Akira found himself knocked back on the floor, Gunji standing in front of him again. In that split second, a slashed wound had opened from the Executioner's shoulder down the entire length of his arm, and it ended where Gunji held off the katana with his own bladed knuckles.

Kiriwar stepped in, metal pipe swinging into the space where Shiki had been a moment ago. Shiki backed off, his sword half-sheathed, ready to stop the confrontation there. When it was clear neither of the Executioners were going to pursue a fight, Shiki let go of his weapon. With a wordless exchange, a scoff, he turned and left, taking the suitcase with him.

…

…

…

"Where do I get these?" He referred to the bandages he had just unwrapped from Gunji sliced open arm.

"... Bathroom."

He moved quickly, feeling the Executioner's gaze follow him. Akira picked up Gunji's bloodied jacket along with the bandages and walked to the bathroom. Inside was a cabinet that looked as if medical supplies would be stored there.

After taking out a roll and tossing Gunji's jacket into what looked like the laundry bin in the corner of the bathroom, he reached for the sink and ran hot water over his hands.

Gunji had begun taking off his jacket, but it looked like he would have difficulty treating his wound. He was pretty surprised when Akira reached over and began unwrapping the bandages from his hand, but he didn't protest. He just stayed still and watched, silent.

Akira took a bottle of disinfectant from the cabinet, a towel, and water, too. When he came out of the bathroom, Gunji was sitting on the floor. He straightened when he saw Akira.

...

When he sprayed the disinfectant onto the cleaned wound, Akira noticed Gunji's expression change minutely. So he wasn't immune to pain. Gunji cooperated with Akira, letting him wrap the roll of bandages around his shoulder. It led him to wonder just how high of a fever it was. Seeing Gunji like this, he found himself full of questions. If there were a time to ask, that time would be now.

But as they sat there on the floor together, a strange silence had taken over the Executioner.

Akira wrapped the bandage securely around Gunji's bicep and tried his best to ignore the Executioner's stare. He just sat and watched Akira's hands at work and occasionally his face. Akira couldn't help but shift under the intent gaze. He expected some kind of comment or jest from him at any moment but heard none. Just sitting like this, it actually felt comfortable.

Akira pushed those thoughts out of his head and let go of Gunji's shoulder as he finished bandaging it. In an attempt to escape the strange situation, he grabbed the extra roll of bandages and the disinfectant spray to put them back. But Gunji held onto his arm, keeping him in place. Akira turned back to face him but then recoiled from the surprising closeness.

"Wait..." The Executioner's voice was low even in the quiet atmosphere of the room.

Then, he moved even closer, and the words turned into a kiss.

After a brief moment, he pulled back, and Akira sat there, momentarily stunned. Without any protest from Akira, Gunji shifted even closer. He slid a hand onto the side of Akira's face and brought their foreheads close, quietly rustling their hair together. When Gunji's eyes locked with Akira's, their expression was very different, with no challenge or aggression.

The request was unspoken, but the words came out like a plea.

_Please..._

"Don't...push me away..."

Akira didn't.

He let Gunji kiss him.

Warm. And undemanding.

Strangely enough, there was no lust in it at all. Just a quiet request. Somehow, to Akira, it felt that if he rejected him here, it would affect him a lot more than it should. Akira's thoughts from earlier surfaced in his mind. Escape. This was a way out.

When Gunji pulled back, Akira peeked at his face.

He looked as if he were awaiting judgment, and from the look in his eyes, it seemed he was expecting flat-out rejection. When Akira moved, his gaze flickered down. He was expecting to be pushed away.

"...I'm...a guy."

It felt like pointing out the obvious, but what Akira said just then was also a question.

"...Yeah." Gunji only acknowledged the obvious statement.

He had never bothered to question Gunji's sexuality or his actions because neither ever really seemed far-fetched for him. Until what he had pulled off the night before. But he hadn't been completely oblivious to Gunji's obvious preference towards him either.

But that detail, in comparison to what blocked Akira from ever entirely trusting the Executioner...

There was something else he needed to ask.

"...Why did you do it?" Akira finally spoke again.

Gunji looked up. Did he know what he was referring to?

_He hurled the slighter man against the wall. As Akira's back rebounded against the concrete, his breathing came to a halt._

The awful memory was a wall between them.

_Gunji roughly grabbed the front of Akira's bangs and forced his forehead up. He wore a brutal smile as he watched Akira gritting his teeth._

"Back in that alley..."

_Every fiber in his body screamed at him to run._

"Why did you do it?"

Gunji averted his eyes again. How was he going to answer that?

Earlier, Akira had already resolved himself. Gunji sought reciprocation, and if that was what he was looking for, Akira was going to give it to him, if that could give him some chance of escape. That was his plan. Convince Gunji to let him go.

Akira trapped Gunji with that question. _Why did you do it?_

Bitter resentment rose in his chest. Akira knew why he'd done it. He just felt like it. It the worst, most perfect situation. Cornering someone who was running, struggling was what the Executioners found the most fun. Akira had just been unlucky enough to be the one to get caught. Killing him right then and there would have been too quick. In the Executioner's mind, it was easy for him to reason, why not force him down?

It was one of the most painful things he could have done as a man to another, short of torturing him to death. And he had nearly done just that. He could have left Akira to die.

But he didn't. On a whim he'd taken him back to the mansion, kept him alive, and that was likely just to get some more fun out of it.

Gunji may have seemed like a different person now. But. People didn't just change.

Akira didn't need an answer. He already figured it out himself.

Although bitter feeling still echoed in his chest, if he wanted to convince his way out, he had to play along.

Regardless of whether or not he'd forgiven Gunji. Regardless of whether or not Gunji felt remorse. It didn't matter. This needed to look like reciprocation.

Akira forced down his hesitation. He didn't want to feel this way. For some reason, it hurt too much. Maybe, it would be fine just to pretend. Just for a while. Forget about Il-re. The false accusation. The CFC. Toshima. Igura. What he needed right now was an escape. So he sought to bury that pain with another.

Gunji still hadn't spoken a word. He couldn't. Maybe it would've been better for his plan not to have brought it up. But it was almost harder just to forget.

Akira shifted closer, making it impossible for him to avoid his eyes any longer. Gunji's breath caught at their incredibly close proximity. At this distance, it was obvious. There was no mistaking it.

Gunji. So he genuinely did...

His nose brushed against Akira's cheek as he leaned into a kiss.

What Gunji couldn't convey in words, Akira felt. An apology.

Up this close, Akira felt Gunji's pulse racing, his face heating up. He could feel just how much power he had over the Executioner.

Mentally, Akira hesitated briefly. Was he really going to go through with this? But as quickly as it appeared, the thought subsided. He had already decided what he had to do.

Gradually, the entire situation grew more and more heated. This was hardly the undemanding kiss just moments ago. Gunji was watching for his response, and when there was no protest, he became more forward.

And with every passing moment, Akira became more anxious. Uncertainty filled his thoughts. Even though he decided to go through with this, he was less ready than he thought he was. They were moving fast, and it was difficult to pretend he was entirely okay with it.

He could barely stop himself from shying away when Gunji's hands slid underneath his shirt.

He didn't want to do this. He wanted to back out.

Akira froze, overwhelmed by the sudden memory of graphic pain. He thought he'd already gotten over it, but his body hadn't forgotten, tensing up.

He caught Gunji's hands.

"...? Don't want to...?" Gunji broke the kiss, noticing the hesitation.

"..." Akira looked down and away, not letting the Executioner in on his thoughts.

But after a brief moment of hesitation, Akira brought his arms to Gunji's shoulders. His back touched the floor as Gunji reached for the fastening of his pants.

Akira knew exactly what this would lead to if they continued. But Gunji definitely wouldn't want to stop here. Would he if asked to? Either way, sooner or later, this was going to end up happening. He'd already decided that this was the his way out. So he let go and closed the distance between them again. Gunji responded, sliding his tongue into Akira's mouth.

Sounds from the kiss filled the room, and through all of Akira's hesitation, he couldn't help but feel the heat in the quiet atmosphere rising. When Gunji kissed him like this, it was almost impossible to breath, and it didn't take too long to reduce the both of them to ragged exhales. It was nerve-wracking, but... Gunji was one hell of a kisser.

It didn't take long for his pants to come off. Gunji pulled Akira's hips closer, sliding his back against the floor.

"You're pretty nervous, Kitty." Gunji's quiet voice interrupted his thoughts.

There were too many opportunities for him to back out, but he couldn't do that now. Definitely not. If they stopped now, he wouldn't be able to bring himself to do this again.

"...No. It''s just that..." He searched for an acceptable excuse. "...My back... It hurts."

They were on floor. It wouldn't be a far-fetched reason, right? Gunji studied Akira's face for a moment, and Akira could see him trying to decide whether or not that really was the case. But in the dim light of the room, he wouldn't be able to tell.

After a brief moment, Gunji asked Akira. "...Wanna take this somewhere else?"

He was referring to the bed, most likely.

"...Nn."

…

He sat on the edge of the bed, Gunji leaning over him. His chest pounded painfully, nervously. Even through all this, uncertainty flickered in his mind.

Wordlessly, Gunji looked for consent.

And Akira let him.

And with that, Gunji shifted forward and pushed Akira's back onto the bed. Although Akira was tense and anxious at the thought of what was going to happen, he gradually lost himself in the heat of the moment.

Gunji moved into the space between Akira's legs and pulled his hips closer. He brushed his lips briefly against the bridge of Akira's nose, as if to console him. He was trying to ease his tension. But just kisses were hardly enough to prepare Akira for what was to come next.

An intermittent pain tore through his lower body. Akira couldn't cry out, but the Executioner noticed the catch in his breath and the twist in his expression. This was different from last time, but Akira couldn't help pushing Gunji's hips away. It hurt. A lot. It felt as if it were impossible to go any further. It was excruciating.

That pained gasp stopped the Executioner. If he continued, he would end up hurting Akira. And so, he distracted him, pressing his mouth to his neck. And when Akira's body eased minutely, that was what Gunji had been waiting for.

A stifled gasp escaped Akira. They'd really gone all the way now. He could barely breathe. Definitely, there was no going back.

The tearing agony in his hips only grew worse when Gunji began moving. Akira's arms, which had been pushing the Executioner away at first, now clung to his shoulders.

"Ease up..." Gunji murmured.

Even though he was being very gentle, just the motion made it difficult to breathe. As he shifted uncomfortably beneath Gunji, he could feel a quiet gaze. Gunji was watching for his reactions. A comforting hand stroked through Akira's hair, and a kiss pressed onto the corner of his mouth.

The two of them settled into a quiet rhythm.

Akira took in slow breaths, each one hitching slightly from the pain. He forced himself to relax, finding it difficult to keep from flinching at every movement. Tearing pain paralyzed his lower body, and the only thing Akira could do was hold on tighter. Relaxing was out of the question. Akira bit down on his lip, forcing himself to stay quiet, holding back stifled sounds of pain. His entire body was tense. He shut his eyes, clenched his jaw, and waited for it to be over.

Then, Gunji stopped, and the pain receded into a dull ache. Akira opened his eyes. He looked up to see the Executioner gazing down at him with an indecipherable expression.

"... It looks like you're in a lot of pain..." Gunji's quiet gaze locked onto Akira's face..

Akira knew that being tense like this wasn't helping, but the memory of graphic pain and sensation had never truly left his body. Akira couldn't help but flinch back.

"... So this really is hurtin' ya..."

Akira refused to back out now. He had to do this. So he hooked an arm around Gunji's neck, pulling him closer.

"...Keep going..."

After a little less than a moment of contemplation, Gunji pressed his mouth to the side of Akira's jaw, as if to console him. At this small comfort, a numb feeling began to spread in his hips, bringing with small pangs of pleasure.

"Ngh... ha..."

Quiet breaths slipped out from him, and he pulled the Executioner closer. The whole experience was a mix of pain and pleasure. It was still mostly pain, but Gunji didn't have to know that. Small sighs escaped from the Executioner occasionally as the heat between them kept building. As they continued, their breaths came out heavier.

"...Ya know... Doin' it slow like this...is pretty good, too..." Gunji murmured, his mouth pressed to the part between Akira's neck and shoulder.

"...Nn." Akira didn't really know what to say.

He lost track of time as he dealt with the pain. It never quite went away, but the feeling of numbness did make it somewhat easier for him. The physiological response in him between the friction of their movements helped him hold up his farce. Akira grabbed onto what little pleasure he felt, trying to ignore the pain.

At this point, Gunji hastened his pace, and his movements brought a rising heat into Akira's lower body. Akira held onto that sensation. Sweet pangs of pleasure ran through his body with every movement. The quiet breaths between them were no longer so subdued. Both of them were being driven to the edge.

Gunji's hands tightened on the sheets on either side of Akira. Feeling the Executioner's heated breath beside his neck, Akira instinctively tensed up. Gunji pressed his mouth to Akira's neck as he pushed his hips forward.

A stifled breath.

Warmth filled Akira's hips, bringing with it a slight sense of embarassment. Just now, Gunji definitely just... It wasn't something he would outright admit, but he did, too. For a moment, Akira laid there, catching his breath, and when he looked up, he found Gunji staring down at his face.

"...What is it?" Akira asked aloud.

Gunji pressed his mouth to Akira's, interrupting him.

"Can't believe ya just let me do ya~" He murmured against Akira's lips with a vaguely mischievous grin.

Akira didn't know how to react to that, so he turned his face aside. It seemed the Executioner had no trouble getting back to his cheerier mood again.

"Hm~" Gunji let out a low laugh.

Then he prompted Akira. "Let me hear ya say it again."

"...Huh?" Say what? He looked up suspiciously.

"What was it? …'Keep going~?'" Gunji repeated Akira's words with a smirk.

Akira almost couldn't take the embarrassment, and Gunji seemed to be very amused by his reaction. With one last affectionate kiss, he brushed his nose against Akira's. Then, he pulled out. This drew out a gasp.

Gunji's eyes trailed down, then he sat back.

"You're bleeding."

"Huh?" But Akira was hardly surprised.

It had hurt a lot. When Akira shifted to sit himself upright, he flinched from the slight movement. Ouch. From his hips, he could feel something warm run down his thighs.

It was a sight to see the Executioner flustered. So Akira looked down himself.

Red. A lot of it.

From the sight of the blood, it definitely looked a lot worse than it really was. Akira looked back up at Gunji. When their eyes met, Gunji dropped his gaze apologetically.

"Hold on." He shifted to get off the bed.

Akira grabbed onto Gunji's arm. "...I'm fine, really."

This wasn't entirely true. His hips were really sore. Gunji looked at him, not taking his word for it. Then, a faint smirk pulled at corner of his lips.

"Still, Kitty, we should probably get cleaned up..."

He wasn't just referring to the blood.

Akira let go of his arm.

Gunji laughed at the reaction. "Be right back, Kitty~"

In the meantime, Akira had grabbed his briefs again, just for the sake of not being completely exposed. It was a bit difficult to get them back on, though. He hoped the pain would subside by the next morning.

Gunji came back with a towel and sat himself in front of Akira.

"Alright~ just sit back and let me do this..." Gunji slid the towel underneath Akira's shirt and over his abdomen.

Right now, he was just sitting with his shirt and briefs on and Gunji with only his pants. The aftermath of the entire thing felt a bit awkward to him, but apparently, Gunji wasn't picking up on that. In fact, he was just the opposite, in a really good mood.

"Let me do it." Akira referred to Gunji's injured arm, taking the towel from him.

Gunji let go and watched as Akira reached over with the towel to his abdomen. He laughed a little as Akira worked on cleaning up his body.

"What?" Akira looked up.

"Nothing." Gunji leaned in closer. "Just that ya look pretty messed up right now~"

And whose fault was that? Akira ignored the comment.

"Cute~" Gunji laughed again.

Was that supposed to be a compliment then?

...

With the Executioner's good mood, Akira couldn't help but lighten up.

Gunji even seemed to want to go to sleep just like this – their bodies incredibly close, his arms around him.

But it didn't bother Akira too much. It was late, and he was far too tired to complain.


	9. The Morning After

The first thing Akira registered in the morning was Gunji's startlingly close proximity. The Executioner's arms were wrapped tightly around his body.

Akira tried moving a bit but found it difficult to escape the grip-

"Mornin', little Kitty~"

Akira froze at Gunji's voice. Memories of the night before hit him. And he was all too aware that he was hardly wearing anything. Gunji, now grinning, touched his nose to Akira's.

"What? Aren't ya gonna say it, too?"

Akira recovered from his shock. "...Morning..."

Gunji seemed pleased at the response, and he pressed his lips to Akira's cheek, an affectionate gesture. When Akira pulled away to sit up, Gunji had finally let go. Akira looked down at his body to see obvious dark marks on his pale skin. It was obvious they weren't bruises from fighting. Faint aches at his neck let him know there were more there. But that wasn't it. The rest of his body ached only vaguely in comparison to the pain in his lower body, and that was Akira's confirmation. A sense of embarrassment washed over him.

Definitely. It happened.

The entire time, Gunji had been watching Akira's reaction.

"Cute~" He laughed. "Makin' me wanna mess ya up again~"

Then he sat up, his expression turning more serious. "Does it hurt?"

Akira looked away from Gunji's intent gaze. "...A little."

"Ya know..." Gunji's voice lowered. "Just tell me if I'm hurtin' ya."

"...Yeah."

Akira's eyes went back to the bandages from Gunji's shoulder to his forearm.

"What about your arm?"

He had to ask.

"Oh?" Gunji looked down the side of his body. "It's fine. Shikiti didn't get me that bad. Won't take that long to heal up, anyway."

"...Nn." Akira wanted to apologize. "...Sorry. And thanks...for yesterday."

It was, in a way, his fault. And Gunji did get in the middle of the encounter between him and Shiki. The situation had been getting dangerous. Whether there was any way that the situation could have ended up better, it was still Gunji who got injured for it.

"Aww~ Worried, Kitty? It's not that big of a deal..." He leaned in closer, grinning mischievously. "'Cause of this, I got some."

They were so close their noses touched.

"Kinda wanted a kiss to make it better...but I got way more than that..."

Gunji laughed as Akira pushed his face away in embarrassment. "Ah...and ya know, dogs bite. Not cats."

He was referring to the cut on his lip. "Ya even rubbed it in my face..."

"You were the one who made me eat the lemon anyway." Akira refuted immaturely, looking away.

"Heh~? It still stings a little..." Gunji licked his lower lip, an involuntary action. "I think I'm gonna need another-"

"Forget it."

He really bounced back easily. It seemed there wasn't any kind of injury could faze him for too long. But still, he should probably get his bandages changed. In fact, the bandages and disinfectant were still on the floor. He didn't get get a chance to put them back, since...

Gunji noticed Akira's eyes wandering over to the medical supplies on the floor.

"Still worrying, Kitty? It ain't even that bad. Besides..."

His eyes dropped to Akira's body. The slashes had faded into vague scars, but the damage was still clearly visible. It was difficult to believe that this was the same person who inflicted them. Trying for lightening the topic, he tilted his head up a little, referring to the dark marks on his neck.

"You should take care of these first."

It wasn't his aim to guilt trip him.

On his face, he allowed the faintest of smiles. And Gunji stared back, a laugh surfacing reflexively at the expression. Seeing the Executioner act like this almost made Akira feel guilty. What you saw was what you got. With Gunji, there was no pretense. He displayed every emotion he felt clearly on his face, and he did what he wanted, even though the general impression anyone would have of him was that he was crazy and impulsive.

"Ya know, Akira, I've been thinkin' 'bout somethin'..." Gunji scooted closer. "Ya always seem so serious. Doesn't look like ya have any fun at all."

"Really...?" Akira settled for a neutral answer, wondering what point Gunji was trying to get to.

"Ya are from the CFC, right? What kinds of things did ya do?"

What kinds of things did he do?

Akira paused to think for a bit. He lived in an run-down apartment, seldom going out to do much of anything, save for...

"...Bl ster."

"Hm...is that so...?" Gunji prompted Akira, genuinely interested.

This wasn't something Akira would have picked up on before, but Gunji's hair was out of his face at the moment, giving Akira a clear view of what Gunji actually looked like. He'd never noticed. Gunji had brown eyes. He'd expected something more like Shiki's cold, piercing gaze or Kiriwar's sadistic eyes, but his expression was nothing like that. Rather, it looked out of place with all his tattoos and piercings.

This was the first time in a long time that he had had a real conversation. Not one where one person regarded the other so much that nothing sincere came across. Not one where one person was so afraid of the other that nothing could even be said. They were talking.

"Was it fun?" Gunji leaned forward onto his hands.

"...What?"

"Bl ster." He repeated. "Was it fun?"

Akira hesitated before answering.

"...Life in the CFC wasn't all that great." Akira finally said. "It's not that it was dangerous or anything. Not like here... But. I didn't particularly want to do anything."

He leaned his back against the edge of the bed.

"I only fought in Bl ster to make enough money for myself to make a living. It wasn't like I hated it, but it's not like I liked it either. Fighting."

"And the people around me..." Akira paused. "I wish I'd shown how much I valued their company much more than I have."

His thoughts wandered over to the timid Keisuke.

"I would have been lonely...and I wouldn't have minded."

Akira realized he had been talking for a while now. He looked over to Gunji, thinking the Executioner might have lost interest already, but Gunji was still listening.

"There was this one guy. Keisuke." Akira continued. "We'd known each other since we were kids in the same orphanage together..."

Keisuke was the only person who'd kept making an effort when everyone else was turned off by Akira's apathy.

"He even followed me here..." Akira's voice quieted. "How idiotic... I don't even know what he was thinking..."

He stopped talking. He'd already said too much. A short silence stretched between them. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gunji open his mouth to say something.

"So..." Gunji lightly pushed Akira's shoulder., prompting him to look back up at him. "Did ya guys mess around?"

"Wha-?"

Gunji's complete lack of sensitivity threw him off.

"No- we weren't like that. Just-"

"Oh. Then _did _ya ever mess around?" Gunji asked another question, completely off topic.

"Huh?" Akira found himself getting a bit flustered. "I'm not-"

"No way~" The playful smile on his face spread. "So I was your first then? "

Akira couldn't even be irritated. His speechlessness only confirmed Gunji's question. Gunji was having way too much fun with this, and it felt like he was teasing him about his lack of experience. He wouldn't stop grinning. But in a way, was that Gunji's way of trying to lighten his mood?

"...But you were pretty good though..."

At what?

"Thought ya were just shy. It was really cute~"

Gunji seemed content just to sit there and watch his flustered reaction. Akira shifted under the undivided attention.

"What?" He finally asked.

"Eh? Nothing~" Gunji tilted his head. "You're just a real looker, ya know..."

He looked Akira up and down for emphasis. "So then, I was your first kiss _and_ your first-"

"What about it?"

"Hm? ...Nothing, really." Gunji laughed.

"What?" It was Akira's turn to patronize him. "Then what if I didn't look like this?"

Gunji really seemed to appreciate the way he looked. Would he have ended thinking the same way if he weren't as appealing to him?

"If ya didn't look like...?" Gunji stopped and thought for a moment, "...Can't really say whether or not I'd like ya the same way, but...you're really interesting..."

"It's a perk." He met Akira's eyes and grinned. "The sexy part of ya, I mean."

Akira didn't know what to think.

"...Still can't believe ya let me do ya~"

His eyes wandered everywhere else but Gunji's eyes.

"..."

"Ya hungry?" Gunji changed the subject. "It's actually pretty late."

The clock on the wall showed that it was already past 11.

"Bitro'll get on me for not goin' on patrol if I don't leave soon." The Executioner's expression soured. "Don't wanna..."

His eyes looked over to Akira.

"Don't look at me." Akira immediately said. "There isn't anything I can do about it."

"I kinda just wanna stay here..." Gunji rubbed his lips together. "Hey, Akira..."

"What do you expect me to do?"

Gunji scooted in really close. "Wanna go for a second round~?"

"No." Akira refused.

Somehow, he knew that was on his mind. But Gunji hardly looked disappointed.

"What?" Gunji studied Akira's face. "It wasn't that good for ya?"

"...No, that's not it..."

"Then... Oh." Gunji seemed to have come up with an idea as to why Akira was so reluctant. "...Sorry, Akira... I just like doin' it that way..."

…?

"Doing what?" He had to ask.

Gunji leaned forward, a mischievous expression on his face. "In-si-de~"

And immediately, Akira interrupted him, flustered. "No, no. No, that's not it."

"Heh...?" Gunji found himself thoroughly amused by Akira's reaction. "Then...what?"

He unabashedly kept listing possible reasons, having way too much with this.

"It's sex. Happens, ya know? Besides..."

He caught Akira's wandering eyes. "Not like I'd knock ya up anyway~"

That was not the problem. Akira was completely flustered, so sure he'd turned red by now. Gunji had made it clear he had no sense of shame whatsoever.

"...I know that."

Gunji only laughed.

"Akira."

When he finally looked back up, Gunji moved to press his lips to his cheek and grinned. "I won't do anythin' ya don't like. So don't worry so much."

"...Nn." Akira only nodded in response.

He moved to get off the bed. But. It hadn't been so bad when he was sitting down on the bed, but as he swung his feet of the bed, an ache made its presence much clearer. Then, he stood up.

It was embarrassing to think about it, but how the hell was he going to walk? Akira winced, immediately reaching for the bed again, but instead Gunji caught him.

"Whoops." The Executioner steadied him.

Akira shrugged off the support. "It's fine."

"Heh? Really?" Gunji tilted his head. "Though seems last night I was a little too rou-"

Akira grabbed onto Gunji's arms and pushed them off his body.

"It's nothing." He was burning up just remembering it.

He barely attempted to shake Gunji off again before Gunji stood. He felt himself get lifted off the ground. Gunji picked him up. Fucking piggy-back style.

"Hey-" Akira didn't particularly want to be dropped, only to land on his already sore lower body. "Put me down!"

"Put ya down?" Gunji hitched Akira up higher, a laugh clearly audible in his voice. "Aren't ya the one clingin' to me?"

Only because he didn't want to fall.

"Don't worry, Akira~" Gunji had the most reidiculous grin on his face. "You're pretty light."

So begrudgingly, Akira held onto Gunji's back all the way to kitchen, refusing to look up to see the stares they drew down the hall. It was a gesture his body appreciated, but he himself couldn't tell whether or not he wanted Gunji to stop with all the lover-like treatment. The relationship between them really had completely changed.

…

…

…

He didn't want to admit it, but he was pretty used to Gunji's absences now. He didn't really like to wander around the mansion alone, but it no longer felt dangerous. He hadn't run into Arbitro for a long time, and if Gunji weren't present, neither was Kiriwar.

At the beginning, the masked guards intimidated him, only because they were hired by Arbitro, but their stares were only those of curiosity and pity. With his very presence, it drew curiosity still. He was sure that every one of the guards wondered why and how he was still alive. No one knew exactly what he was to Gunji, and most probably had him figured as a poor guy who Gunji picked up as a pet, a source of entertainment. At the very least, none of them dared to touch him out of fear of the Executioner's obvious favor.

And so for the first time, Akira wandered out of the room, not to scope out the mansion or seard for a possible escape route, but just to find lunch in the kitchen.

He was well aware of his appearance. Gunji's clothes and the obvious bruises – if you could call them bruises – on his body, especially around his neck and shoulders. This wouldn't have been an issue had Gunji's clothes not been so loose on him, but there wasn't much he could do about it. So he did his best to ignore the guards' double takes to the dark marks on his body and his messy appearance.

Something not surprisingly, there was a plate of omurice and a glass of lemonade set aside for him in the dining room.

Akira sat and looked at the lemonade suspiciously. It smelled faintly sour as he brought to his mouth, but...

"..."

...It actually was sweet. Oh. So that was what lemonade tasted like. Not nearly as sour as the original fruit itself.

"Looks like Gunji isn't here..."

Akira froze at the sound of that voice.

Kiriwar.

He thought they left for patrol together. It seemed that wasn't always the case.

The tone of his voice set Akira on edge. Kiriwar's wandering gaze settled on Akira, and he stepped closer. "So you're the reason why Gunji's been actin' so weird lately..."

"He likes ya a lot. I can tell... And it ain't hard to see why." Kiriwar laughed under his breath when Akira shifted away from him.

"But... somethin's been up with him, I wonder why..."

His tongue ran over the sharp canines of his teeth. "Makes me wanna get a taste..."

Akira stepped back.

"Eh..." The Executioner laughed bemusedly.

He moved in until their faces were only inches away, "Hey. Don't back away from me..."

Kiriwar gave Akira no room to breathe at this distance. His eyes flickered down to the hoodie Akira wore.

"It kinda pisses me off to see Gunji's clothes on ya."

The Executioner's gaze was incredibly intimidating, but Akira wouldn't let that show.

He clenched his jaw. "Back off."

Kiriwar looked up again, as if humoring him, and locked their gazes, "It's those eyes..."

He tilted his head and studied Akira's face, as if he were affirming something to himself. "Yeah... Definitely."

Akira was determined not to be the one to break the gaze. "What?"

And Kiriwar raised an eyebrow as if the answer to that question were the most obvious thing in the world. He answered Akira with questions of his own.

"Why don't ya cower? Why do ya fight back? ...You're not drugged up... and ya don't seem suicidal... Not with that expression." Kiriwar mentally crossed off a list of possible explanations. "Are ya just idiotic or what?"

He exhaled and then straightened. "Either way... It's what makes ya so interesting..."

It seemed that he was done talking.

With irrational fight in him, Akira shoved him away.

…He actually stepped back, caught off guard.

"...Huh..." Kiriwar's voice dropped dangerously. "...Can't tell what to make of ya."

His eyes were appraising, indecipherable. Akira couldn't tell what was going through his head. But in that gaze was something he thought he could have misread. It was close to...respect or approval, if anything at all.

Silence.

The creak of the kitchen door sounded incredibly loud in contrast to the silence. Akira's head turned towards the opened door.

"Kiriwar."

This time, it was Arbitro. Not much better company. But his entrance lowered the tension in the room significantly. Along with him was a guard and a young boy he remembered seeing a few times before.

"Don't patronize the poor boy like that." He said with authority. "If I remember correctly, it's almost time for your shift."

Kiriwar backed off from Akira, looking as if he were hardly registering the order. "Yeah, yeah. I'm goin'."

It took a moment too long before he broke eye contact with Akira as he walked out.

Arbitro sighed. "...Goodness."

Then turned to face Akira.

"Good afternoon."

"Kao, behave yourself." Arbitro addressed the boy when he moved close to sniff Akira.

Behind the two was a guard Akira remembered distinctly. The young one with short black hair who helped him when he got lost in the mansion.

"I'm very sorry for my employee's behavior." Arbitro smiled in a way that looked as if it were supposed to be pleasant. "It's been a while, Akira."

How did he know his name?

"It's good to see that your injuries have healed well."

His eyes glanced down at Akira's body. Then lingered at his neck. It was evident what he was looking at.

"How has Gunji been treating you?"

The question Arbitro asked obviously hinted at that something. Akira reflexively reached up to his neck, as if that could somehow cover up what Arbitro might have already assumed.

"...Fine."

What else could he say?

"Gunji favors you." Arbitro stated, dismissing the guard at his back. "I was afraid you wouldn't last long. Especially in the grievous state he brought you in."

When the door shut behind the masked man, Kao crept up closer to Akira, sniffing him. No matter how many times Akira saw him, chills went up his spine just thinking what had happened to make him that way.

"I wasn't too keen on letting him keep you, knowing what he was like, but..." Arbitro sighed. "..if he wants something, there isn't much that could stop him from getting it."

"What surprises me, however, is how long you've been here." Arbitro's attention shifted back to Akira. "Let's see... Almost a month?"

Akira involuntarily stepped back. There was no indication that Arbitro had bad intentions, but just like everyone in the mansion, he had a certain sense of threat to him. But not quite in the same way as the Executioners. It was worse.

"I thought it was a shame, but it seems you caught more than just his eye." He looked Akira up and down. "He'd been so distracted, so unlike himself, recently."

The front Akira hadn't used in so long made a reappearance.

"How did you know?"

Arbitro picked up that Akira wasn't referring to the Executioner.

"Hm? I don't know everything." Arbitro raised an eyebrow. "I don't know why you were framed, who did it, or how. Just that your objective is to defeat Il-re. Is that right?"

Akira's eyes narrowed, his mental guard visibly going up.

"Now, now. Don't be so cold." Arbitro laughed. "I treat my guests well."

The young boy – dog? – backed off, returning to Arbitro's side

"I don't know everything, but..." The masked man began walking around Akira, Kao at his heels. "You have no idea who Il-re is, do you?"

Akira hesitated. He might as well have admitted it.

"...No."

Arbitro smiled. "I have no conflict against you. I assure you. In fact, I'll even give you a little help... Are you familiar with Shiki?"

When Akira didn't say anything, he continued. "You can win a chance to try defeating him, if you collect an appropriate set of tags."

What?

…Shiki?

It shouldn't have been so surprising, considering his strength, but out of all possibilities...

Shiki was Il-re.

He likely had little to no chance of defeating him.

Akira pushed down that thought.

"How am I supposed to collect tags?" Akira asked, referring to his current situation.

"Oh?" Arbitro raised his brows. "Well. As the regulator of Igura, I can say, with certainty, that you have not broken any rules."

Discounting the unknown origin of the tags Emma and Gwen had given him, it was true that he hadn't violated any of Igura's rules. He hadn't been defeated. No Igura participant, with the aid of a witness, had knocked him on his back in a fight.

"You can still collect tags." He assured. "Feel free to take your leave anytime."

Huh?

"I'll let the guards know that you're free to leave anytime you'd like." He stopped and looked Akira up and down once more, clicking his tongue. "...Such a waste... I wish but cannot guarantee you good luck."

The sound of the entrance doors caught his attention.

"Of course, Gunji should know nothing about this." Arbitro confirmed the confidentiality of their exchange. "I'm sure he'd be more than opposed."

He walked out the dining room, headed for the open hall at the entrance.

In their short exchange, an opportunity opened up for Akira. He could leave. If he wanted to, he could walk out the front door. Leave, find Keisuke, collect enough tags to challenge Il-re. As low as his chances were of defeating him, it was either fight or return to a life sentence in the CFC. Neither option was appealing, but getting to Il-re was his only possible way out.

He had to leave.

Akira followed suit shortly after Arbitro, walking to the entrance hall.

…

He came in just as the Gunji was giving his report. Kiriwar stood aside, probably ready to set out as soon as Gunji finished.

Arbitro was sighing and pressing his fingers to his temples, obviously frustrated by something. "So anything-"

"Akira~!"

Gunji noticed him shortly after he entered the room. The speed at which the Executioner closed the short distance startled him.

"Gun-" Akira stepped back instinctively, just before getting caught in an stifling embrace.

"What? Aren't ya gonna greet me?" Gunji seemed to be ecstatic by Akira's appearance.

The genuinity of his excitement was a stark contrast to the brooding mood Akira had been in from encountering Kiriwar and Arbitro. He couldn't keep up.

"...Welcome back."

But that hesitant greeting appeared to be more than enough from the reaction it drew. Gunji, satisfied, broke into a grin, bringing their foreheads together. On the other hand, Akira found himself self-conscious. All eyes in the hall were on the two of them. Arbitro. Kiriwar. The guards in the room. Even Kao's head was turned in their direction.

"Hey. Brat." Kiriwar interrupted. "Ya ain't done here."

"Aw..." Gunji complained. "Aren't I done already? Patrol's over..."

"Ya can play later." Kiriwar tapped his weapon against his shoulder impatiently. "Get over here."

"Hmph."

Gunji didn't budge in the direction of his partner and boss. Instead, he turned to Akira again. Even though Akira couldn't see their expressions from how close Gunji was, the collective surprise in the room felt almost tangible.

It was more than just their lips grazing together. Gunji made it obvious when he slid his tongue into Akira's mouth. The forwardness took even Akira by surprise. It didn't last too long, but it was long enough that he could hear the sound it made in the stunned silence of room before they separated.

Gunji's lack of reservation would never fail to shock him.

The Executioner stuck his tongue out slyly, challengingly, at Kiriwar and Arbitro. Arbitro's hand had dropped from his forehead, and Kiriwar's eyebrows were raised. Through their masks, the guards were looking on in curiosity. If there were any question as to what he was to Gunji, this likely only drew more. He could only imagine what kinds of conclusions they were drawing.

It didn't take long to draw an audible reaction.

"Don't tell me... Ya really do..." Kiriwar started laughing as if he'd just come up with the most ridiculous notion. "The hell is this? This is way too funny..."

Shortly after, Arbitro was the one to break the stunned atmosphere.

"That was a sufficient report, I suppose."


	10. That Was Why

The clink of the tags attached to the Executioner's belt echoed in the bathroom, and Gunji hitched up Akira's legs. Their lips met in a demanding kiss once more before Gunji pulled their hips together, supporting Akira's weight.

Akira had lost track of how long they'd been locked together like this. One thing led to another, and his initial reluctance faded into consent.

How many more times were they going to do this?

Akira threw an arm around Gunji's neck and pulled him closer. When he kissed him like this, it was difficult to think of anything else, and within moments, the both of them broke away, breathless and completely soaked. At this close proximity, he could feel Gunji's face heating up, along with the atmosphere. Something about the running water made the entire situation feel really...

Gunji's hands were at Akira's pants, tugging them off, and Akira managed to slide Gunji's jacket off his shoulders.

"You're pretty light, Akira..." He murmured.

He was having a hard time talking straight. And the expression on his face was without a trace of restraint. The Executioner's hips shifted slightly against his, an unmistakable sign that he wanted more.

"Ngh..."

Gunji felt Akira straining against the wall.

"...Hah..." He pressed his mouth against Akira's jaw, watching his twisting expression. "Ease up..."

Akira held onto the Executioner's shoulders, his body shaking. It wasn't even halfway in. And even Gunji realized that at this point he would end up hurting him if he didn't get him to calm down. But he didn't want it to end yet. So he stopped for a moment, kissing Akira's cheek, then the bridge of his nose, then his lips, urging him to relax.

Eventually, the tension in Akira's body eased minutely, and Gunji went for it, going all the way. The exhale that escaped Akira this time was somewhat less pained, and Gunji began moving. Akira's voice was really...

"Ya know, Akira, you look really damn sexy right now..."

His messed up hair, the way his wet shirt clung to his body, how it felt when he moved. Everything.

Sex with Gunji was always rough on his body. He couldn't ever relax entirely. He'd lost track of how many times they'd ended up like this. It seemed Gunji took every opportunity to make a move on him, but Akira found himself liking returning those affections more than he felt he should. Still, he felt he could never get used to doing this.

In every interaction with the Executioner, there was a certain tension, yet he found himself completely at ease at times. He didn't mind pretending so much anymore.

One thought blended into the other. How did they end up like this?

…

…

_~The day before~_

Even though his back was to him, the Executioner immediately perked up at the sound of his entrance.

"Akira."

He was back earlier than usual. It was still fairly early in the afternoon. The Executioner had turned and indicating for him to sit down next to him, holding something in one hand.

When he didn't react immediately, Gunji reached over and grabbed his wrist, tugging him down.

"Here. I got somethin' for ya."

Out of his pocket, he pulled out a a package of something that looked like a solid. It wasn't. It was thinner, and the wrapping was unfamiliar. He placed it in Akira's hand and looked up at him, expecting a reaction.

"What is...?" Akira wasn't even entirely sure if it were an edible thing.

"Bet ya never tasted chocolate before~" He grinned. "Try it. Try it."

Akira recognized it. Chocolate. An unattainable luxury back in the CFC. Akira's curious expression confirmed Gunji's sneaking suspicion that he'd never tried it before.

"Hurry up. Go on." Gunji's knee bounced up and down impatiently. "It was hard as fuck to get the old man from the neutral zone to get some of these."

How much did it cost?

He unwrapped it tentatively and took a bite.

"Like it? It's good, right?"

It was almost sickly sweet, but it filled Akira's mouth with the most uniquely delicious tastes he'd ever experienced. So this was chocolate.

He straightened in genuine surprise.

"Hyaha, knew ya'd like it~" Gunji laughed, satisfied with the reaction.

He didn' bother hiding it.

"Ya got some left here." Gunji indicated with a finger to his own mouth.

Before Akira could wipe it off, Gunji leaned forward and caught his hand, a mischievous grin on his face.

"Here. Got it."

His other hand slid to the back of Akira's neck as he leaned forward. His mouth touched Akira's lower lip before his tongue did.

He licked off the leftover chocolate.

"Oh. Sweet~"

Gunji, irritatingly so, looked very pleased with himself.

Akira found himself vaguely embarrassed by the sudden action. Gunji never failed to shock him. But that impulsiveness, in a way, felt almost endearing. In a rough-mannered way, that was his appeal.

It made it easier for him to act this way.

"Gunji."

"...Huh?"

The Executioner blinked, taken aback by the sudden closeness initiated by Akira.

He started. "Ak-"

Akira interrupted him by shifting even closer. Gunji stopped mid-sentence.

What was he doing? He'd already made his decision to leave, and whether or not he continued acting this way, they likely weren't going to cross paths again. Fight Shiki. And either die or return to the CFC.

Recently, he'd wondered how to himself how it could have been had they met under different circumstances. Dangerous thoughts like those had begun to enter his mind. He couldn't tell what it was that made him hesitate. Uncertainty? Il-re? Or was it something else?

He almost wanted to say something. For leaving. But Gunji couldn't know why. So he could only do this. Just this one time.

This time, Akira moved.

When their lips met, he felt Gunji's breath catch. And when he shifted himself onto Gunji's lap, he felt the pulse under his finger accelerate. He traced the dark tattoos on the Executioner's neck and shoulder, and he could feel, under his touch, just how much power he held over him.

Gunji's breaths became uneven when Akira tilted his head. At this point, Akira had him backed up against the wall.

It was manipulative. But it was also the only way he felt he could apologize. Reciprocation.

Fleeting thoughts went through his head. The same ones over and over again. How could it have turned out under different circumstances? Although he'd already made up his mind, something in his chest ached, holding him back from truly wanting to commit to his plan. It was easier to push those thoughts aside. And lose himself in the moment.

Vaguely, he tasted the sugar from the sweet. Gunji probably did, too. The crystals had long since melted, but the taste was still there. It wasn't so bad, kissing like this. Gunji was starting to ask for more from the way he pulled him closer. He was completely taken by his advances.

Akira moved himself on top of him as he pushed the his back against the wall. Gunji's hands had begun to wander, and at this point, Akira grabbed them and moved them to the fastening of his pants.

He didn't want to stop. Not even for a moment.

But he was distracted by something.

"What?" Akira moved his lips against Gunji's

"Nothin'." Gunji paused for a moment, the corners of his mouth turning up. "Just wonderin'... Ya wanna do it this way?"

Akira was sitting on top of him.

"Not complainin'." Gunji laughed. "It's pretty fuckin' sexy..."

Oh.

He definitely wasn't going to stop.

...

Akira moved forward, hovering above the expectant Gunji. The Executioner watched Akira, waiting to see what he would do, but Akira himself didn't know what. So he slid his hands into Gunji's, on either side of their bodies, and lowered his head. He had some idea, but he wasn't quite sure of himself. Even up this close, Gunji hadn't closed his eyes yet, and that was making Akira feel self-conscious. He pressed his mouth to Gunji's neck, nudging his head upwards. Just the way he remembered it being done to him.

But Gunji's pulse was accelerating, too. And it occurred to Akira that he might be feeling more than he was letting on. He moved to Gunji's mouth, pausing just before their lips met. Gunji's eyes were closed now. He was really letting down his guard. It felt strange being the one in charge, and it was difficult to imagine Gunji not taking what he wanted.

"Ya teasin' me, Akira?" Gunji laughed under his breath.

He closed the short distance between their lips.

At first, Gunji was patient, staying at the pace Akira had set, but as the kiss went on, he shifted a bit at the lack of forwardness, obviously wanting to take the lead and take it further.

So Akira slid off Gunji's jacket.

And then, he reached for Gunji's belt.

…

He was losing himself. He could hardly bear with the awful feelings that wrenched his chest. Guilt pulled at his mind.

It wasn't so bad once they settled into a rhythm. The tearing pain had faded into a tolerable numbness.

But it wasn't enough.

He knew exactly what drove the Executioner up the wall. The more that limit was pushed, the less self-control he would be able to hold onto. He was being too gentle with him, considerate, stopping when something seemed to be too much for him. Each of his hitching breaths and occasional gasps had Gunji pressing his lips to his neck, comforting him.

But that wasn't what Akira wanted. He needed pain, in order to forget.

So he dropped his hips all the way down, forcing Gunji even deeper inside him.

"...More..." He murmured against Gunji's mouth. "...I want..."

And that definitely got his attention.

The kiss broke with a quiet sound, leaving only their uneven breaths in the silence.

"Damn..." Gunji's mouth trailed along the edge of Akira's jaw. "Don't do that, Akira..."

"What...?"

Akira shifted again, letting him move deeper inside. Gunji exhaled, losing his composure momentarily. His movements hinted at a desire for greater stimulation.

Pain, roughness hinged on force, that was what he wanted. But Gunji wasn't letting that happen. He could tell when it was too much for him. He had an innate sense of others' pain, no doubt honed by his experience as an Executioner. He watched Akira's face, vaguely concerned.

He was being too gentle.

…

…

_~The day after~_

"Why don't we play a game?"

Gunji leaned forward a bit, tilting his head at Akira.

"...A game?" Akira looked quizzically at Gunji.

"Yeah. Ya don't like 'em?"

Akira shifted back minutely, anticipating.

"What about...Bl ster~"

And in that moment, Gunji tackled Akira, both of their bodies in the air for a moment then landing onto the floor, the impact clicking the bathroom door behind them open. The shock of the sudden attack knocked the breath out of Akira, sending him into a coughing fit.

As quickly as Gunji attacked him, he backed off.

"What...the hell?" Akira managed through coughs.

"Bl ster, right?" Assured that Akira had caught his breath again, Gunji locked Akira's arms down onto the floor. "I win~"

That wasn't how Bl ster worked. Anyway, without any sense of the boundary between the two rooms, Gunji had Akira's back on the wooden floor of the bedroom and his arms on the cold tile of the bathroom floor. He was unsure of how to react to Gunji's competitive impulse. Play along? He would be fine just to be able to get back up. But strength for strength, he couldn't knock Gunji off him.

He tugged at the grip on his arms, but they were firmly held down.

"Hey." Akira caught Gunji's eyes.

"What~?"

And Gunji was feigning ignorance. Challenging him. He wanted to see a reaction.

Fine.

Akira relaxed for a moment, seemingly exasperated. Then suddenly, he yanked at the grip. One of his arms slipped free of Gunji's hold, and he quickly jerked his body up to knock Gunji off and onto the cold tile. The only thing was that Gunji still had a firm grip on his other arm. So Akira was dragged along, too. Half on top of him.

"Whoa-"

Gunji's back must have hit the floor hard, the change in temperature of the surface probably shocking him, but if it hurt, he hardly showed it. If anything, he was just having fun.

Gunji looked up. "Impressive... Ya got me on my back. Know what that means?"

He sat up, making no move to get out from beneath him. "Ya can do anythin' ya like with me~"

Although the innuendo was obvious, it didn't seem Gunji would act on it. Unsure of how to react to the implication or the childish behavior, Akira settled for changing the subject.

"That's not how Bl ster works."

"Oh?" Gunji tilted his head, waiting for an explanation.

"...The fight doesn't end when your back hits the ground." On the other hand, to Akira, it felt strange to be contradicting the Executioner. "The ref stops the fight when one person is no longer able to continue."

Explaining the rules of one game to enforcer of another.

"You can forfeit." Akira straightened up, trying to move off Gunji. "And it's illegal to kill."

"Oh~?" A grin spread on his face. "Well..."

Gunji caught his arm before he could move. In one quick move, he switched their positions. "I didn't forfeit yet."

Akira didn't know how to respond. He found himself scooting backwards, the Executioner following closely.

"What? Don't scoot up so close-" He began.

"What?" Gunji grinned at him, ignoring his words. "Why're ya backin' away, anyway?"

To Gunji, this was a game. One he wanted to keep playing, until he had cornered Akira. He backed him up against the wall. The shower head above them. And lever to turn it on right next to him.

"Ya know, Akira. Right now..." Gunji reached for the lever. "I kinda wanna try somethin'."

In the shower? Just like this?

Gunji hardly seemed to care where or when they did it.

"Your arm." Akira pointed out, finding himself becoming increasingly on edge.

He couldn't tell whether he was nervous or anticipating or...but he hardly had time to think about it. Just then, Gunji leaned down.

"Couldn't care any less 'bout that right now."

He brought their arms up against the wall on either side of them and slid his hands into Akira's. But Akira was still vaguely hesitant.

"Nn... What?" Gunji paused for a moment.

He could tell him to stop right now, but instead of doing that, he...

"...Right here?" Akira asked quietly.

The Executioner really didn't hold back on his blatant forwardness.

"Don't wanna?"

He could tell. If he told Gunji to back off right now, he would stop.

Akira hesitated. "...It's not that I don't want to..."

What should he say? Gunji was observing him, trying to figure out something.

"...Don't worry so much..." He leaned in again, a faint laugh in his voice. "There isn't much to it..."

…

…

...

And that was how they ended up like this.

It always hurt more at first, but eventually, the sensation in his hips would fade away into a numb ache. Still, Gunji's endurance always had him completely exhausted at the end. They'd done it enough times that at this point, he knew exactly what Gunji liked. And what pushed him over the edge.

Their breaths gradually eased off a high.

Again. He had let him do it again.

"Ya know, Akira. Ya got really good at this." A mischievous grin spread over Gunji's face.

He laughed at Akira's flustered reaction and changed the subject. "...Cold? Wanna get somethin' back on ya?"

He was comfortable where he was.

Akira rested his head against the Executioner's, completely relaxed. Gunji didn't seem to mind. He busied himself with kissing just underneath his jaw, his neck, his collarbone. Affectionate as ever. His eyes settled on his tired expression. To Akira's drowsy mind, they were vaguely appraising. The quiet kisses and the constant rhythm of Gunji's hands against his lower back were making it easy for him to fall asleep right then and there. When he let his mind wander, something caught his eye.

He traced the dark tattoos on Gunji's body. "Where did you get these?"

"What? Like 'em?" Gunji grinned against his neck. "Looks cool, right~?"

He didn't answer the question – Akira wanted to point out. It wasn't just the tattoos. The piercings. The bleached hair. Everything about his appearance stood out, an exaggeration of his personality.

"How can you see with all that hair in your face?"

It came out more antagonizing than he'd meant it to.

"Huh?" The Executioner tilted his head. "What's wrong with it?"

Oh. Had he struck something?

"No. Just wondering."

He didn't take him for someone to be touchy over his appearance. A tired smile pulled at his lips. Gunji looked as if he had been about to refute it childishly. But he closed his mouth, opting not to say anything at all.

That was a first.

Only the muted sounds of their breaths reached his ears. He didn't know what to say. He didn't need to. Their eyes caught again. Who leaned forward first?

"Mn..."

It expressed more than he could have conveyed in words.

Their lips met over and over. Remnants of the heat between them remained. Without realizing it, his body had shifted to match Gunji's. It felt too easy. Comfortable.

They separated after a brief moment, and Gunji let out a quiet laugh.

"...What?" Akira asked.

"Nothin'~"

Akira, even though still vaguely curious, leaned against Gunji's shoulder and closed his eyes.

"Tired?"

"...Nn."

He responded by shifting up against him, nudging his head into the space between the his neck and shoulder. Gunji had no sense of his own personal space, but when Akira moved closer of his own accord, he could tell that each small movement held some significance. It was things like this that caught Gunji off guard.

He felt the Executioner carefully shift around him. He ruffled the hair at the nape of Akira's neck absentmindedly and brushed his lips against the bangs on his forehead.

The notion that someone was willing to be so vulnerable in front of him was something Gunji never encountered.

That was why he kept falling harder.


	11. Patrol

The sight of Gunji shocked him. Blood. Everywhere.

Seeing it drip off the blades of his weapons made it obvious that he had used them. To kill.

"Don't bring him inside! Can't you dispose of it properly?" Arbitro's voice sounded throughout the room.

"Got it, Papa ' Bitro..." Gunji brushed off the man's irritated demand.

"Yeah, yeah..." Hooked onto the metal pipe Kiriwar held was well-built man, bloodied and likely almost dead, if not already. "Hey, Gunji, wanna take him outside?"

"Eh? Why?"

"He's a pretty big guy." Kiriwar dragged the man from side-to-side, to emphasize his point.

"As if this'd be heavy for ya..." Gunji complained, but he was already tossing the body over his shoulder.

His partner followed him out the door. "I picked up most of your slack on the streets anyway. Lots of fights. Lots of bodies lately."

"I caught this though!" Gunji refuted.

The entrance slammed shut behind them.

…

Akira jolted awake, suddenly very aware of where he was. Where else would he be anyway? He let out an exhale and threw his arms over his face. For some reason, his head hurt, and his chest was tight. He couldn't remember his dream, but it entirely too obvious it was a nightmare.

As he calmed down again, he noted the absence beside him.

Gunji was up early this morning. It was still dim outside when he'd gotten out of bed. And he was quiet, probably having expecting to slip out before Akira woke up, but before the injuries, Akira had been a light sleeper. Now, he had significantly recovered, and old habits were returning to him.

The metal blades made a quiet ringing sound when they scraped together. With his back to Akira, the Executioner wrapped them on. Between the darkness and the silence of the room, that was the only indication Akira had that he was still here. His eyes hadn't adjusted yet.

"...Gunji." He called out, slowly sitting up, still sluggish from the daze of sleep.

The somewhat now easier to see figure paused and turned to look at him. "You're up?"

"Yeah." Akira felt a bit self-conscious now.

This was the first time he'd woken up without his clothes, with Gunji still in the room.

"It doesn't take much to wake me up."

He noted that Gunji hadn't continued wrapping the blades on yet.

"Do you usually patrol this early?" He was curious.

"...Huh? Ah." The Executioner straightened up a bit for his explanation. " 'Bitro has me and Jiijii do the patrols at different times. There's less room for rule-breakin' that way. They don't know when the patrols are."

"Hm." Akira leaned forward.

Gunji stopped in the middle of what he was doing to sit back on the bed, next to Akira.

"What is it?"

Gunji studied Akira's questioning expression.

There was something about him that made him consciously attempt to take more care with his actions. He still messed around, impulsively, with his words and actions – that was just how he acted – but in the way he tilted his head and grinned at this guy in particular, he wanted Akira to be at ease. Those same actions he used to intimidate others turned into something entirely different.

Gunji hugged Akira from behind, and at the reflexive jump it drew, his lips grazed against the skin between Akira's neck and shoulder.

"Ahaha~" He laughed to cover the vague twinge in his chest that reaction had caused. A feeling he couldn't quite place. But what he wanted to see was some response...like a smile back at him.

It left a vague frustration in his chest. Through the dim light of the room, he caught Akira's eyes.

"...I want a kiss." Gunji demanded, pulling Akira in closer.

"Huh?"

"Exactly."

Akira knew to expect the Executioner's impulses now. But still.

"Go ahead." He answered without blinking.

"Heh...?" Gunji looked dissatisfied. "It won't count if I do it, though."

"You're asking me to do it. What difference does it make? ...Besides..." Akira glanced over at the half wrapped blades on one of Gunji's hands. "Don't you have some patrolling to do?"

"I won't let go if you don't."

Now Gunji was just being immature. Akira stared back challengingly, beneath the cold, indifferent front he held, but if there was anything he'd learned about Gunji, it was that this wasn't something he would just let go. From the Executioner's whims, he might just decide he wanted to have sex right here and now if his mind were allowed to wander. Being in this condition, Akira's clothes practically on the other side of the room, the Executioner would consider the job pretty much already half-done.

Akira turned his head aside and slid a hand against Gunji's cheek. Just briefly, their lips met, and he pulled back.

"..." Gunji blinked, not quite satisfied. "That's it?"

Of course he wanted more.

"Ain't gonna let go-"

Akira leaned in again, this time, more forward, and his hand slid to the back of Gunji's neck. After a moment, he broke the kiss, surprised to find the Executioner's eyes closed.

"Heh~" Gunji opened his eyes and grinned, looking pretty self-satisfied. "Ya actually did it~"

"'Kay then, little kitty~" He licked Akira's cheek before pulling away.

"Gu-!"

Gunji laughed as retreated, catching hold of the half-wrapped bandage around his knuckles. And Akira let it go.

There wouldn't be a better time to bring this up.

"What happens when you're on patrol?" He asked.

"Patrol-?" Gunji started.

Time to put his act on again.

"Yeah. It's kinda boring just staying here." He tilted his head, keeping his eyes on the Executioner, hopefully turning on the persuasion. "How long are you going to keep me inside?"

That was the question he really needed answered.

Gunji hesitated, so Akira quickly spoke up again, taking advantage of the short lapse in conversation.

"Are you ever going to take me along with you? On patrol?"

And that gave the Executioner some room to recover.

"...Don't say ya wanna be an Executioner."

"No." Akira countered Gunji's attempt at ease.

An uncertain sense of guilt had him not wanting to put Gunji in this position, but this was important.

Gunji started wrapping the bandages over his hands again.

...

Akira pulled the hoodie over his head. The waistline of the shorts was a bit wide for him, as they usually were, but what other options were there? On the counter of the bathroom, something glinted back at him His tags were there, still untouched after all this time. Would the Executioner even notice if he took them back?

The clink of metal was muffled in his pocket. Impulse drove him to hold onto them.

Besides that...

He glanced up at the mirror.

He was really looking at himself now. He could hardly remember when he'd last properly looked in a mirror.

He'd lost weight. And the Executioner's clothes did nothing to hide the obvious. The person staring back at him almost looked like a stranger. His face held no recognition of the conflict he was feeling. So this was what he looked like.

What had Shiki meant?

Studying his own face, he looked incapable of emotion. So he was "Lost." Back in the CFC. It made sense now, and he let out a laugh under his breath at the strange humor of it.

Which expressions of his had Gunji seen?

"Takin' your time..." With barely a knock, the door opened. "Ya ready yet?"

Gunji was now right beside him. That same tall, intimidating figure reflected back. So the mirror hadn't distorted him.

Why did he look so different? If anything, he still had that same serious expression as ever. But tired. Maybe it was only because of his hair, uncut for a long while now. And he looked paler than he'd remembered, bringing attention to the darkness under his eyes he'd never had before. He couldn't tell if he had any aversion to the image in the mirror.

Gunji noted Akira's silence.

"Akira?"

He didn't want to look at himself, for the first time in a while, truly conscious of his situation. He... It didn't look as if he were about to cry or break down. There was a certain fragility to his expression.

Shiki had been wrong.

He averted his eyes from the distant person across him. And suddenly, he realized Gunji was looking at him. His response had long been delayed. He turned, and their eyes met. Gunji eyes flickered away, as if he'd seen something he shouldn't have.

"Yeah." Akira finally answered.

…

The guards' attention lingered on Akira a moment too long.

"Open up."

Akira glanced aside at the Executioner. No formality whatsoever.

The outside light from the opening large doors fooled him for a moment into thinking it was sunny. No. It was overcast, as usual. And at the bottom of the steps from the entrance was a taller, recognizable figure. Kiriwar.

"Late, brat-" He turned to criticize his partner but stopped on noticing Akira's unexpected unexpected presence. "Oh? ...What's with the little lady?"

Gunji took it challengingly. "Oh? If Akira wants to come along, he'll come, too."

"Hm?" The other Executioner's eyes followed Akira with interest.

Akira didn't shy away from the stare, keeping his walls up. "It's boring staying inside all the time."

"And you'll be more entertained watchin' us at work?" Kiriwar raised an eyebrow.

"Hey, Jiijii." Gunji stuck out his tongue.

"What? I'm not patronizing him or anything."

"It's fine." Akira assured Gunji.

He wasn't sure why the Executioner was defending him so adamantly, but it wasn't as if he needed it.

"Hmph." Gunji crossed his arms and pouted off to the side, successfully diffused.

And the other Executioner looked over, from his partner to Akira.

"...Well. Don't get too bored." Kiriwar seemed to accept his presence without protest.

...

He hadn't stepped outside in a long time. The skies were the same as they always were in Toshima. Gray and cloudy. Looking as if it were about to rain. Nothing had changed. That was all he could think as he walked down the first empty street, trailing behind the Executioners. But not for long.

"Akira, whatcha doin' back there?" Gunji turned and reached for his arm.

He stepped back involuntarily. And Gunji stopped.

"Nothing." Akira stepped forward in the least noticeable of pauses.

But he could see Kiriwar watching him as he moved up to walk in stride with them.

So even the dauntless Executioners were conscious of his presence. Kiriwar made no effort to hide his scrutiny.

And finally, he spoke.

"Gunji ain't ever taken ya out?"

"No." To conceal his nerves, his expression turned to indifference.

"Doesn't sound like any fun at all..." Kiriwar turned to his partner. "Hey, brat, the fuck you been doing? You tryin'g to bore little lady over here?"

"It's not like we haven't been doing anything." Akira made some effort to converse, but he realized the innuendo of his statement only after he'd said it.

"Oh?" The corner of Kiriwar's mouth tilted up in an amused smirk, amazed at Akira's fabricated ease.

"Got anythin' to say to that, brat?" He laughed aloud.

"Looks like you're more annoyin' than usual, Jiijii." Gunji countered childishly.

"Looks like brat here ran outta things to say." The corner of Kiriwar's mouth tilted upwards, back towards Akira, he commended, "Pretty impressive, little lady."

"Hey." At the sound of the nickname, Gunji's expression soured. "Don't call him-"

"What?" Kiriwar interrupted. "...Little lady?"

"It's Akira. A-ki-ra!" Gunji enunciated each syllable.

"Oh. Then." Kiriwar addressed Akira again. "Akira. How's the brat?"

"...What do you mean?"

He wasn't referring to his partner's well being.

And Gunji jumped in again, correcting him. "Don't call him by name. Ya ain't that familiar."

"Huh?" Kiriwar raised an eyebrow. "Hey, brat, you're being more annoying than usual."

"Can't say that." Gunji stuck out his tongue. "I already di- Ow!"

Kiriwar had knocked his partner's head with his weapon.

"Oww..." Gunji rubbed the back of his neck. "That fuckin' hurt, Jiijii!"

He looked about ready to use those sharp claws of his. So just then, Akira jumped in. For some reason.

He backed up cautiously. "Hold on!"

Did they always fight like this? How did Igura still have two Executioners? Then, something amazing happened. He didn't expect them to actually listen. To his surprise, the two actually stopped and looked at him. What now?

"Ah, um..."

Would it have been smarter to just have let them fight? What was he thinking jumping in the middle of it?

"..."

They were still waiting for him to speak. And Akira could not think of a single thing to say.

"...Fu. Haha!"

Kiriwar was laughing. Akira looked up. What? Gunji was grinning, too, hands on his hips. At least it looked like he defused the situation. But what the hell?

"I really like this guy." Kiriwar managed to say between his laughs.

…

As he continued to walk alongside the Executioners, he noticed that most of their disagreements were solely based on harmless banter. It was difficult to place the dynamic between the two Executioners. And it wasn't as easy just to say whether they were close friends or merely coworkers. Occasionally, he was dragged into the conversation.

"Why the hell would ya name a cat Pochi?"

"Eh? Why?" Gunji tilted his head in some mysterious thought process of his. "Pochi and Tama. That's just how it is."

The conversation was pretty pointless. It didn't feel like something you could call "small talk," but it was equally as pointless. Was this really how the infamously reputed Executioners acted in their downtime?

"Hey, Akira!" Gunji turned to him.

Oh shit.

"Ya agree, right?" Gunji tilted his head at him.

He couldn't say he did. So he settled for a neutral answer.

"Does it matter?"

"Fu." Behind Gunji, Kiriwar held back a laugh.

"Hey!" Gunji turned back to his partner, irritated.

Seriously. But beyond the pointless banter, there was something else Akira noticed. Up until this point, no one else had been around.

"Rule breakers don't stay where everyone can see 'em." Kiriwar glanced aside at him.

Akira hadn't done so much as look over at him. Was it really that obvious what he'd been wondering?

"If it'll make ya feel better, we're about to run into a couple crowds."

"No. That's not it." He denied.

But he did hear the sounds of people in the distance.

"Here we go." Gunji strode ahead of him just as they turned the corner of the narrow street.

Akira felt somewhat irrationally nervous as the shadow of a tall building passed over them. For the first time in a long time, he saw people other than the intimidating Executioners or the masked guards or Arbitro. And the hoodlum-looking men just ahead of them, not having noticed the approach of the Executioners yet, were no longer as intimidating as they had seemed when Akira first arrived in Toshima.

And just as that had registered in his head, a gradual hush fell over the groups of men scattered throughout the now wider street. They definitely knew the Executioners were there. He remembered the sense of dread he had felt before. He, not even behind Gunji and Kiriwar, stepped out into the slowly splitting crowd.

"Hey, hey~" Gunji called out, seemingly out of place in the entire atmosphere.

Looking at him, this was exactly how he acted back at the mansion. Gunji was just greeting everyone the way he would anybody else, regardless of intimidation. Akira looked over everyone else. It seemed infamous reputation did so much more in ensuring their dominance as the enforcers of Igura.

Now, although Akira had never noticed it before, both the Executioners were doing their job. Kiriwar seemed to be nonchalant, but it became clear to Akira that he was checking for tags around necks. Each Igura participant in the crowd became all too aware of their presence there. The tension in the atmosphere was almost tangible. From this, it seemed to Akira that he would go by unnoticed by anyone else, but soon enough, as they made their through, the change in the expressions of those around him made it obvious he stuck out. Reflexively, his hand went to his neck, absentmindedly searching for a metal tag. There was no tag. It was in his pocket, the subtle clinking too muffled for even himself to hear.

A murmur went through the crowd as his presence was noted. Akira, not willing to let his tense interior show, looked straight ahead, leaving on his face what he knew was an expression of cold indifference. This countenance was something he was familiar with showing.

_"Who...?"_

_"That guy..."_

_"...the fuck?"_

_"...don't look like a bitch."_

_"Ain't ever seen him before..."_

_"He with them?"_

_"No way."_

_"...But it doesn't look like he got caught."_

Hushed words scattered around him.

He took a quiet, deliberate breath to calm his nerve-wracked insides. He glanced around, looking for anyone he might recognize, and found that the others reacted the same way to him as they did to the Executioners. It seemed that because of the unknown reason for his presence left no room for an intermediate. It was obvious now that he was neither caught nor afraid – at least that was what it looked like – and his acknowledged presence between Gunji and Kiriwar might as well have put him in the same category. They were cautious of him. Apprehensive.

He felt both Gunji and Kiriwar glance at him for a moment.

"Hm."

He heard a faint laugh to his left, one that could be mistaken for amusement. After that split second, Gunji focused back onto the Igura participants again. Before Akira could think too much of it, Kiriwar's voice sounded out, low and intimidating.

"Hey. You."

A big man in a dark hoodie stiffened as he drew both Executioners' attentions. He had the unfortunate position of being at the front of the crowd. Kiriwar stepped forward first, Gunji a second late. He could have imagined it as hesitation.

Only Akira didn't follow. His fabricated cold exterior was the only thing between himself and the men around him. Although he, as a unusual presence, drew the attention of many, everyone was now watching Gunji and Kiriwar.

Akira saw nothing too unusual about the man. Why did they call him out?

The man bolted.

And just like that, at the sight of the running man, they changed. He had seen the Executioners in action before, but this was different. At that pace, Gunji'd get to him first. Akira knew just how fast he was. But. Gunji stayed in place.

Before he was able to watch the scene play out, he caught something in the corner of his eye.

Just then. A look of recognition. A familiar face. Rin.

Somehow he'd been able to pick the short blonde out of all the other participants. And Rin clearly saw him, too. But he only stood there, blending into the crowd. That was exactly what Akira had expected. Rin seemed almost reckless and carefree, but in the face of dangerous reality, he had an amazing sense of self-preservation. That meant, in front of the Executioners, he maintained his distance.

Akira lost sight of him the moment he looked away. Rin was gone. Was it caution that motivated his immediate retreat? Or did he run off intending to tell Keisuke?

Either way, he probably wouldn't have wanted to risk association with him.

Right now, could he run?

No. It was far too open of a space and far too many people. Not to mention he stuck out like a sore thumb. Painfully so. There was no way he would be able to slip away undetected.

"Why're ya running?" Kiriwar, in a few paces, caught up with the desperate man, yanking on the hood of his jacket and bringing him down hard and scattering metal tags onto the pavement.

The dazed man hardly struggled anymore as he was tossed back to where Gunji was.

"Hey, got your tags on ya?" The blonde Executioner leaned over him.

Kiriwar tapped his weapon against his shoulder, looking down at the participant, likely having anticipated having to deal with a rule breaker.

"...Hm."

He glanced at Akira. Only for a moment. Then he kneeled down and reached for the tag at the man's neck.

"It's a pretty worthless one, but it's still real." He let out a sigh. "Got anythin' else?"

Ignoring the other tags surrounding him, Gunji pulled out a handful from the man's jacket. "Oh. Look."

So many.

After staring at them for a moment, Gunji tossed them back and straightened.

"Don't know why ya ran, but if ya ain't done nothin', don't. Just makes it complicated."

The man sat up slowly, barely daring to look up at the Executioners, not entirely sure of what to do.

"Scram." Kiriwar ordered bluntly.

At the command, the participant scooped up the tags scattered around him, scrambled to his feet, and quickly backed away, not once turning to the Executioners.

The Executioners didn't take long in watching the man's retreat. Instead they turned and looked in Akira's direction, obviously prompting him to follow.

So he did. Walking over, as the participants made room for him, now even more cautious of his presence.

...

"Why'd you call him out?" Akira asked.

More importantly, why did they let him go?

"He was plenty suspicious. Just standin' around and fidgeting like he'd done somethin'." Gunji shrugged. "That's all there was to it."

"But so was everyone else." Akira pressed his lips together, unsatisfied with the answer.

He wasn't deliberately antagonizing them. It was just that that couldn't be the only reason.

He brought it up again. "So in the end, there was nothing. He didn't–"

"No." Kiriwar spoke up. "He probably did. Maybe he knocked out some lone idiot out and stole his tags."

The Executioner met Akira's eyes with his own.

"Ain't no one with clean tags who runs like that." Kiriwar said matter-of-factly. "Can't say it for sure either way. So."

"...Is that why you let him go?"

"No. Just didn't want to crack down on someone in front of little lady." He glanced over to his partner. "Brat wouldn't like that."


	12. Blue Coveralls

The two spared him the mandatory report to Arbitro, so Akira retreated to Gunji's room and took a bath. At least he wasn't bothered this time. Gunji definitely took the opportunity to fool around whenever he could.

He left the towel around his neck, to keep the excess water from dripping down his back. The halls weren't so confusing anymore since he'd gotten familiar with them. Arbitro's mansion was something he had more or less figured out by this point. After padding through the well-lit halls, he walked into the dining room, just where he knew they would be.

"Yo."

Kiriwar was the only one at the table, a sandwich in hand.

"Hungry, little lady?"

He tossed a water bottle at Akira, who deftly caught it midair.

"If you're lookin' for Gunji, he's in the kitchen." Kiriwar tilted his head in indication of the swing out door. "He's makin' something."

But Akira only stopped and took a seat, at the opposite side of the table, just across from the other Executioner.

"I'll wait." He twisted the cap off the bottle.

Kiriwar shrugged. "Suit yourself. Be careful when ya eat it."

Although, there was no reason at present to be cautious, Akira couldn't help but recall the last time they'd been alone.

...

_"Hey. Don't back away from me..."_

_Kiriwar gave Akira no room to breathe at this distance._

_"It kinda pisses me off to see Gunji's clothes on ya."_

_"It's those eyes..." He tilted his head and studied his face, as if he were affirming something to himself. "Yeah... Definitely."_

_With irrational fight in him, Akira shoved him away._

…_He actually stepped back, caught off guard._

_"...Huh..." Kiriwar's voice dropped dangerously. "...Can't tell what to make of ya."_

_His eyes were appraising, indecipherable. Akira couldn't tell what was going through his head. But in that gaze was something he thought he could have misread. It was close to...respect. Or approval, if anything at all._

...

Kiriwar made no attempt whatsoever to hid his scrutiny. Just as expected. Not very eager to challenge him, Akira looked over the fancy cutlery just off to the side, something that neither of the Executioners seemed to make much use of.

His way of protecting himself was to stay at ease, which was only possible if he allowed his mind to wander. It didn't feel there was really an established relationship between him and Kiriwar, so he kept himself at a distance.

"Can't tell what to make of ya."

Those words again. Akira reflexively looked back at the Executioner across from him. Unexpectedly meeting him straight in the eye.

Kiriwar's eyebrows raised for a split second. "Sheesh. Those eyes again."

Akira stayed silent, unsure of what to say. It was possible that Kiriwar was just as unable to read him as he was the Executioner. So he waited.

Having finished his sandwich, Kiriwar picked up his own water bottle. As he unscrewed the cap, he spoke again.

"I seriously can't tell whether you're antagonizin' me or just watching." He took a sip. "Ya just look so cold."

Akira didn't let up on his silence yet.

"Feels like I can't even decide whether or not I can say somethin' to ya." Kiriwar mused.

The bottle made a quiet tup as he set it back on the table.

"Just say whatever you like." Akira finally spoke up.

Kiriwar laughed under his breath. "And ya talk back, too. Doesn't really piss me off, though."

The ticking of the grand, likely overpriced, clock went by painfully slowly. He wondered how long it would take for Gunji for to finish up what he was doing in the kitchen. After a moment, he noticed Kiriwar looking at him again. It was only a brief glance before he looked away and sighed.

"What?"

There was no change in the Executioner's expression. "Still pisses me off to see Gunji's clothes on ya."

Akira felt vaguely irritated. He'd heard all this already.

"I don't have any of my own clothes."

What else was he supposed to do? Gunji'd cut them up. And now, Kiriwar was doing it again. Meeting his eyes so intently. He couldn't tell how he should react in this situation.

Suddenly, Kiriwar laughed, breaking the silence. "Just like a cat."

Akira felt as if he were deliberately being riled up. "Don't tell me you're going to catch onto–"

"No." Kiriwar had an amused expression on his face, even now. "It's just that I can see the resemblance. Brat's got a thing for nicknames."

"And you don't?"

"What? Don't like being 'little lady?'"

"I have a name."

"Didn't think you'd like being called by name, Akira."

Akira's expression turned sour. Somehow, it felt like he'd lost this battle. He'd finished about half of his water bottle at this point. He began absentmindedly tapping at it. What was he waiting for again? Something vaguely unsettled him. Immaturely, he tried to completely ignore Kiriwar's relentless stare. At least Gunji was obnoxiously obvious about it. He blinked at the sound of the Executioner's voice.

"So interesting." Kiriwar let out a short breath that could've been either a scoff or a laugh. "No wonder Gunji's got a thing for ya. He even took ya along on patrol."

"...Did you think I was going to run?"

"No."

That was a quick answer. Why was he so sure? Akira looked at him, prompting a more thorough answer. And Kiriwar complied.

"You're smart." He said simply.

The hell was that supposed to mean?

And just as he was about to ask, the kitchen door swung open. Gunji made himself only too obvious in a room and barged in without regard for the atmosphere. He picked on Akira's presence immediately.

"Akira!" Immediately he broke into a grin then grabbed Akira's arm, pulling him out of his seat. "Over here, over here. Ya gotta try this."

As Gunji pulled him into the kitchen, he was conscious of Kiriwar's eyes watching their interaction from behind.

Gunji pushed a plate of something red towards him. Specifically, noodles in a red sauce.

"What is it?"

He could smell the meat. Everything else was unfamiliar.

"This time, it's spaghetti~"

Gunji still hadn't given up finding a new favorite dish of his. He might as well have turned cooking into a hobby.

"There's so much of it." Akira pointed out.

"It's fine, it's fine." Gunji waved away the small details. Just like always.

"See?" He moved to stand next to the refrigerator. "This is somethin' called a–"

"How clueless do you think I am?"

Unfazed, Gunji pulled up a chair and sat across the counter from Akira. "Either way, ya gotta try it."

Used to the routine, Akira picked up the chopsticks while Gunji sat with his chin on his hands, watching him intently and waiting patiently for an answer. The noodles weren't too bad. They were pretty good actually. It was a new and unfamiliar taste for him. Savory. Akira took a couple of bites and after finishing about a fourth of the dish, passed his judgment.

"It's good."

And with those words, Gunji slumped down onto the table. "Gah... So it's no good either..."

"I just said it was good–"

"Omurice, huh? Maybe I should cater more to a little kid's taste..." Gunji thought out loud. "Oh, yeah. Ya probably do have a sweet tooth."

Apparently, he'd reached an epiphany.

Akira wasn't amused. "I'm still here, you know."

He turned back to Akira and ruffled his hair with a conclusive grin. "So don't sweat it. I'll find somethin' else for ya."

Akira reached for Gunji's wrist and pushed his hand away. "My hair's still wet."

Instead of pulling away, he reached for the towel around Akira's neck and ruffled his hair with it, using both hands this time and temporarily obstructing Akira's vision. Instead of resisting, which he knew was pretty much futile, Akira stood there patiently and waited. It was kind of relaxing anyway.

When Gunji stopped messing with his hair, he opened his eyes to find him staring at his face. Without realizing it, Akira found himself looking aside.

"Water." He unscrewed the cap.

For some reason, he was relieved to find something to distract himself. He downed the rest of it. Just as he was about to walk away to toss it aside, Gunji caught his arm.

"...What?" Akira looked back.

He didn't get a chance to take his arm back. Suddenly, he found himself pulled close, face to face with the Executioner. After a brief moment of shocked stillness, his gaze dropped again.

"Don't tease me."

Akira was taken aback by the sudden shift in Gunji's voice. It was enough to make him drop the empty bottle in his hand.

"...Huh?"

What was he saying?

Gunji tilted his head to the side, and Akira was only too conscious of the distance he closed.

"Ya haven't looked at me once this entire time."

Akira, despite Gunji's words, kept his gaze aside. The only thing he could focus on was the proximity of their bodies. They were so close. Without touching, there was no way it could get more intimate than this. He was too aware of the pounding in his chest, and it rushed in his ears. He couldn't settle beneath that intent gaze.

Gunji leaned forward, pushing Akira back into the counter behind them.

"Wait–"

When their lips met, a heat began in his face and moved down his neck and shoulders to his chest. Why? They've done this before, but this time, it was different. He felt Gunji lift him up and seat him onto the edge of the counter. This time, rather than just letting it happen, Akira slid his hands up the back of the Executioner's jacket, and consequently felt a smile against his lips. His chest pounded almost painfully so.

After a moment, Gunji broke the kiss and pulled back a little, slightly out of breath, his eyes locking with Akira's.

"...That was some invitation." He laughed breathlessly. "And finally, you're lookin' at me again."

His eyes flickered down to Akira's mouth then back up.

"Come on... We're not gonna stop here, right?"

He was urged back with a firm tug on his hips. Between unrestrained kisses, Gunji slid his hands underneath the hoodie. He tugged it up and over Akira's head, messing with his hair again. They had to break away for a moment for him to do so.

Then, he leaned back into the kiss, tossing it aside. The towel that had been around Akira's neck fell to the floor, and that snapped him back to reality.

"Wait." Akira managed, drawing back. "...Not here."

"Huh?...Why not?"

The kitchen door swung open. Impeccable timing.

He strode into the room, noting the two of them and hardly looking surprised. Kiriwar reached down and picked up the empty water bottle that rolled off onto the floor, tossing it out along with his.

"Don't let me interrupt." He raised an eyebrow. "But ya probably should get a room."

Gunji, unfazed and unashamed as always, didn't seem to care about getting walked in on. "Whatever, Jiijii."

Kiriwar grabbed another water bottle out of the refrigerator, his eyes meeting Akira's for a moment, before he left. Drawn back to reality, he had his senses again, and he reached for Gunji's hands, holding them away from his body.

"No?" The Executioner tilted his head. "Don't want to?"

It took him a moment to say it. "...No."

In the suddenly discernible silence, Gunji studied Akira's face, curiously, before kissing the bridge of his nose.

"Okay then."

Just like that? A familiar, fleeting thought crossed his mind. The image of the Executioner he held in his mind would have no problem taking what he wanted. But he wasn't sure anymore.

Gunji picked up the fallen towel on the floor and dropped it onto Akira's head.

"Still want to wear the hoodie?" He asked. "I'll probably get hotter for ya later."

Akira pulled the towel back down and around his neck again, getting off the counter. "No. I'm fine."

…

…

...

The next morning, he left.

It was during the early Executioner patrol. That was a risk in itself, but it would have been nearly impossible to slip away unnoticed any other time. He didn't know what to expect when he walked past the guards, but it seemed Arbitro had been serious about letting him leave.

The masked guards, who he'd even begun to be able to tell apart, didn't stop him. Without a word, the young one with the short, dark hair opened it for, bowing as he walked out. Wordless. Painless. That was exactly the way he wanted it. If he overthought his decision, he might have second thoughts. Regrets had to be saved for later.

Only one fleeting thought crossed his mind.

Would Gunji miss this shirt?

Ridiculous.

Gunji didn't wear sweaters.

He forced himself to draw his thoughts away, absentmindedly reaching for the tag that hung around his neck once again. Gunji had kept them. Thankfully. And in a place that wasn't too hard to find.

The first place he thought to go was the neutral zone. The bar where he'd first met Rin and Motomi. With Keisuke. Therefore it was the most likely place to find a person he knew. And more importantly, it was where the Executioners were the least likely to be.

He just needed a place to stay. And a familiar face.

On the other hand, would anyone recognize him from yesterday? From however many participants there had been, it actually was very likely. Would information brokers have a hold of this information yet?

Akira hit a much more populous street, one that he recognized, just as the words "information broker" registered. Motomi.

Rin had seen him. Which meant it was likely that Motomi now also had word of him.

Akira strode as quickly as he could without bringing attention to himself. The neutral zone, the bar, was now in his sight. If he could just get past here...

His shoulder brushed against the shoulder of a larger guy who had suddenly backed up into his path.

"Huh?"

That voice came out as pissed. No way. Out of all the things that could have happened between here and the bar. Not now. This guy sounded like one likely to get him into a volatile situation. He could already tell.

"..."

In reacting, he didn't say a word. But then again, how many times had his silence been mistaken for provocation? As the man in the dark hoodie turned to face him, he braced internally for confrontation.

...Shit.

What were the chances?

It was the same guy from the day before. The one Kiriwar had knocked down. The one Gunji had searched. Internally, his nerves wound up even tighter, but he didn't let it show. He had no choice but to take whatever would be thrown at him.

The man's visible reaction was unexpected.

He turned around, irritated. At first.

"Yo–"

Then, recognition crossed his features. Unmistakable.

He was familiar now with how those who didn't know how to react to him would react. He'd gotten enough of that from the masked guards in Arbitro's mansion, and the Igura participants from yesterday. This man was at a loss for what to say. It was apparent what was crossing his mind. Whether or not he should avoid him like he did the Executioners. Or just stand back. Either way, a quick decision was something Akira couldn't expect. So he decided for him.

He turned his eyes on the man. "Move."

And the man stood back, breaking their locked gazes. Intimidated.

The vague taste of what the Executioners encountered every day gave him a sense of power. This man's reaction had given him this forged authority. And it worked just as well with the other men around him.

He walked past them with an outward ease. In reality, he exhaled inwardly from the outcome of the situation.

But the neutral zone...

...looked like a nightmare. Busted lights on the sign and the red that looked soaked into the pavement just outside the bar were indicative of violence. Although the door was broken down, he had no intention of entering such an uninviting place. Just from the outside, he could tell something had happened. It smelled of blood and–

"Akira?"

He almost jumped from the sound of his name, but he caught himself, quickly turning around only to see a familiar figure. The smell of cigarette smoke was a dead giveaway. Something from before his occupance at Arbitro's mansion.

Motomi stood there. Buttoned up white shirt, rugged beard, cigarette pack and all. And immediately, Akira's entire body eased from its long held tension, from the relief of finally seeing and meeting a familiar face.

"Motomi."

He'd already said it before he realized that his voice was coming out in that same cold manner with which he had to address everyone else. Motomi met his gaze evenly. How must he look right now to him? Akira had no idea why, but even though he addressed him properly, Motomi held himself with a certain caution. As if Akira were a threat.

After a long held silence, Akira broke it and his own cold exterior. "...You have no idea how relieved I am to see you."

Motomi blinked at the sudden change, unsure, perturbed. "...Yeah."

...

"Let's talk elsewhere" were the words he used. Akira was surprised he was willing. From the suspicious and cautious way he had initially apprehended him, it didn't seem like the older man was too happy in confronting him. But as he looked him up and down, his countenance changed.

Something must have compelled Motomi to blindly trust him, and it had to be enough for him to be willing to take him back here. A room at the top of a worn down, likely not often visited, church. Without question, he took him in.

His attention turned to the door when the older man reentered the room.

"Here's a change of clothes." Motomi held out a bundle that looked like it held dark brown pants and a white long-sleeved shirt to Akira.

"Yeah. Thanks."

"No problem."

Motomi sat down, and out of politeness, focused on the only window in the room.

Akira quickly changed out of his pants. These weren't really a much better fit, but he was relieved just for the change. He slid off his shirt.

"Sorry if it doesn't really fit, but I thought it'd at least be better than if I'd taken you to Rin's–" Motomi stopped mid-sentence.

Curious, Akira looked up to see that he was staring at his body. He must have glanced over absentmindedly while talking. On his face was a clear expression of shock. And immediately, Akira felt a twinge of self-consciousness. He knew what it looked like. Slashed scars across his back and torso. Dark, recent bruises on his neck and shoulders. Recalling, he hadn't yet told Motomi what had happened to him. What had he figured out, not having much with which to go on?

"Akira." He finally spoke again. "What happened to you?"

Akira kept his answer neutral. "What do you know already?"

Motomi took a moment to think his response through. It came out as unsure.

"...I heard from Rin that you were caught by the Executioners. I thought you were dead for sure. But then you showed up again."

Was that all? Akira felt a questioning gaze. It must be a natural thing for an information broker.

"You're not wrong... I was caught. And taken back to the mansion."

The broker's expression turned unpleasant. "Then, Arbitro–"

Akira corrected him. "It wasn't Arbitro... It was Gunji."

And with those words, Motomi's eyes widened, turning back to him in shock. "The Executioner? ...Then...how are you still...?"

"Alive?" He shrugged, his voice outwardly even. "He wasn't interested in killing me."

He pulled on the shirt.

"He just wanted to have some fun."

Neither of them spoke for a while. Motomi quietly observed the bruises that were still visible, and Akira couldn't really care any less. There was no doubt the information broker had come to his own, more or less correct, conclusion.

Out of the blue, this reminded him of the Executioner's gaze.

No. This was entirely different. It was only concern. And curiosity.

"How did you get out then?" Motomi finally asked.

But he ignored the question. How could he explain the fact that he just walked out the front door? To justify this, he also needed answers of his own.

"Did Rin tell you anything else?"

"..." Motomi took Akira's obvious detour in stride. "...He saw you yesterday. But I guess that only confirms what you've told me just now."

"What about Keisuke?"

Another sudden change in topic.

"You're talking about the guy that was with you." Motomi exhaled as he tried to recall. "Actually...I haven't seen him around recently."

"And the neutral zone?"

From the scale of what Akira had seen, an information broker would definitely know something about it.

"Completely obliterated. It's a slaughterhouse." He described. "It's happened recently, about two days ago. And not a single person inside survived, or at least not one that's talked about it."

There was a dead serious expression on Motomi's face.

" But...a man wearing blue coveralls was seen walking out of there."


	13. Deluged

The faint moonlight that filtered in through the only window did little to illuminate the room in comparison to the candle that had been lit before. But he preferred it this way. The dimness and his own solitary company settled him. The bed was far from the luxury in Arbitro's mansion, but the familiar discomfort outweighed those benefits.

…

"_Is this where you stay?" He had asked._

"_No." Motomi stood up. "It's more...where I go to be alone."_

_He lit another cigarette, indicating that he was about to leave. It was already dark outside._

"_For the time being, you should stay here." He exhaled. "You don't have a place to stay, do you?"_

"_No."_

_Any objections were shut down in advance, not that Akira would bring up any._

"_Here."_

_Motomi set something down on the small table beside the bed. A water bottle._

"_It's what I've got right now. Sorry, I don't have anything substantial for you. I don't carry solids around." His nose wrinkled. "Don't like the taste."_

"_It's fine." Akira assured. "This is more than enough."_

_With each footstep, the wooden floors creaked. Just before the door closed behind him, Motomi turned around one last time._

"_Rin'll probably be at the hotel tomorrow. Since the club's pretty much destroyed, the rest of the guys'll probably be drifting to the other district's neutral zone. I'll be there, too."_

_He really was offering him a safe haven. How best to express his gratitude?_

"_Yeah. Thanks."_

...

That night, Motomi let him stay in the room above the church.

Akira pulled at the thin blanket. It wasn't very cold anyway. Although he was exhausted, his mind was restless. After the longest time, now, he truly had time only to himself. That hadn't happened since he came to Toshima. First, he'd been watching over Keisuke. That reckless idiot. Despite his dislike for anything that had to do with conflict, he followed him all the way here. Did he truly think that his presence would help? And now, Akira had to go off and find him again. Even Motomi and Rin, the two friendliest faces they'd encountered here had no idea where he'd wandered, Keisuke. Although Motomi was far from entirely trusting him, he could tell that the information broker would tell him if he knew anything significant.

Even half-asleep like this, Akira found himself letting out a frustrated sigh. But could he really blame Keisuke and his unknown whereabouts when he'd gone missing himself?

Again. He couldn't relax.

First, he'd been watching Keisuke.

Then, he was with Gunji.

When he shifted his body, he felt the cooler sheets his body hadn't been touching. He'd gotten so accustomed to company that he now felt an absence at his back. Cold. Yet, at the same time, his chest burned. He pulled the sheets tighter around his body. It was irritating him.

He was losing sight of his reasons for coming to Toshima. To defeat Il-re. And to bring back the reckless idiot who had followed him here. This meant he had to fight. He still had to fight and win in order to collect enough tags, a poker hand he could trade in for the chance to get to Il-re. And he had to win that, too. Bl ster was nothing in comparison to Igura. Here, in Toshima, losing meant death. Was clearing his name really worth it?

Emma and Gwen. Those names felt so far removed from the him of the present. They expected him to kill Il-re? At this point, he couldn't care any less about the drug operations over which that unknown figure resided. But it was either death or a life spent entirely in prison. Essentially, there was no difference. So he couldn't back out now. But he'd lost the bag that held whatever it was Emma and Gwen would use to contact him. That receiver was gone now. Maybe destroyed. He'd dropped it while he dragged along by Takeru, the thief whose business dragged him into a disarray worse than the situation that already existed.

He was overthinking again. Restless. There was nowhere to go but forward. He had his reasons for leaving. Not only that but it had become increasingly complicated. He didn't now how the Executioners would act after he'd taken his leave. Fight and collect tags? He couldn't forget the rules. He had to win, witness included, and fights drew crowds. Crowds drew attention. Attention was dangerous. And stealing tags under the radar was hardly an option either. The Executioners definitely paid attention to that. He knew from the way they'd chased Takeru.

He had to avoid them at all costs, or else risk getting caught again.

...Would Gunji do that to him?

"..."

He was tired. Returning to that restless state he'd been in before. Nothing would change no matter how much he turned it over in his head. The risk of losing was real.

There was small clock somewhere in the room. He could hear its tiny gears tick away time, marked by inconsistent seconds. How much thought could be condensed within a minute? An hour? He exhaled. The only thing he was losing right now was sleep.

The silence of the room finally registered in Akira's mind.

The risk of losing was real. Losing a fight. Losing Keisuke. Losing to Il-re. The potential threat of running into the Executioners was real.

Silence again.

The mansion wasn't too far from here. The church ran off lengthy, unnoticed pavement off the most populous streets, but in terms of distance, he wasn't too far off. He knew where the Executioner would be at this moment, and he couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking right now.

Enough.

He had his reasons for leaving.

…

…

...

14:43.

He woke with a sudden awareness, and the inconsistent tick of the clock reverberated throughout the emptiness of the room. Uncharacteristically bright. He wasn't used to this much light. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as he glanced at the window. It must have been because the room was high enough to bypass obstruction. There were no tall buildings in this area.

How long had he slept? A sizable chunk of time must have passed past noon.

Spurred into action by the unusual amount of light, he sat up and then swung his legs off the bed. His stomach churned. Hungry. The unpleasant feeling seemed to have stuck with him throughout the night. Of course it wouldn't have gone away. He looked for the only clock in the room. 14:49. Reliable enough. A tag hung around his neck again, and several more clinked in his pockets. The water bottle Motomi had left him was downed within a minute. Its coolness down his throat wasn't particularly satisfying. It served as a reminder of just how cold it was the night before.

If he wanted to get anywhere, get information, or simply sate his hunger, he needed to get up. Motomi's words from yesterday were not lost on him. As long as the Executioners' irregular patrols didn't bring them to the other district, he shouldn't expect to accidentally run into them. Still, a detour would be enough to push an extra fifteen minutes into the route. At least, he still remembered where to find the hotel.

…

16:03.

He kept his head down, pragmatically keeping in mind that he had been sighted with the Executioners. However, there was not one familiar face among this crowd. Something he already expected since he knew only three. But Motomi said that those who frequented the other neutral zone, the club, would be here. That would mean either himself or Rin. Or Keisuke. If he were lucky.

Where was he?

A sip from the bottle he'd purchased washed away the nostalgic taste in his mouth. There was an abundant amount of omurice-flavored solids here, and somehow, the pig tags he'd had from before, compliments of Emma and Gwen, were enough to buy him these at the very least.

His indifferent charade was going to fade away at this point. He wasn't one to fidget. Developing a habit now would be aggravate him.

Where...?

Rin.

A kid with the vague appearance of a young girl entered the hotel, walking as energetically as he'd last remembered. No doubt he was here to purchase something with his nearly infinite supply of pig tags. The club was no longer an option. He tossed the finished bottle and open wrapper into a nearby bin. As he walked towards Rin, his head still lowered, he wondered whether the guy knew of his escape from the information broker.

He stood back until he saw Rin step into an isolated corner of the large hall.

"Rin."

The blonde whirled around at the sound of his name. And then, his cheerful exterior instantly changed. He stepped back, and his eyes narrowed into a cautious glare, as though unsure of how to address the person in front of him.

"...Akira."

...

_"H-Hey!"_

_The crowd parted to reveal a young man with short brown hair wearing a worn pair of coveralls. No one wanted to be near the person stupid enough to attract the Executioners' attention._

"_Ah... um..." It was obvious that the Executioners' attention made him nervous. "...I-I just... wanted to ask something..."_

_The timid guy fidgeted, his brown eyes moving back and forth from the ground to the Executioners._

"_Could you tell me what happened? Or where he is? I-If you do know..." He moved his hand to the back of his neck, apprehensive._

…

"I saw you. Yesterday."

Akira opened his mouth to speak but found himself unable to come up with an explanation just yet.

"...I know."

Rin recovered from the initial shock, no longer solely cautious. He regarded Akira with apprehensive eyes, alight with conjecture. And doubt.

"The Executioners... You were with them."

...

"_Oh. So you're his friend... Ya really wanna know?" Kiriwar looked over his shoulder, indicating at Gunji. "Why don't ya ask him?"_

_At those words, Keisuke seemed to falter, but then he turned to Gunji, looking for an answer, expectant._

_Th Executioner continued. "Gunji's taken a liking to him."_

_A murmur of unrest ran through the crowd. It was no longer silent. Keisuke's expression wasn't hard to decipher. There was no doubt he was thinking of what might have happened to his friend. Although his eyes were uncertain before, they were unwavering now, staring, almost glaring, straight at Gunji. He stepped forward after a clipped moment of hesitation._

"_You're the Executioners, so you enforce the rules of Igura, right? …Akira didn't break any rules, so..." He took in a breath as if to brace himself. "Can't you just let him go?"_

_By this point, snickers mixed with looks of either pity or horror came from the crowd. What this guy was asking was ridiculous._

"_Let him go?" Kiriwar broke into laughter and then turned halfway back around to Gunji, "Hey, Gunji. He's yours, isn't he? Ya wanna just let him go?"_

_Those words only seemed to affirm the guy's fears. He stepped back, his eyes wide. Then his expression hardened, his hands clenching into fists at his sides._

"_Akira..." His previously timid demeanor began to give way. "What did you do to Akira?"_

_The boldness of that question rang out in the tense air. Everyone was watching the unusual scene unfolding with uninterrupted attention. And Kiriwar seemed to be thoroughly entertained with what was playing out._

"_Whoa. Interesting... Hey, Gunji, doesn't he kinda remind ya of that guy?" His eyes sharpened in amusement. "The way he likes to fight back, I mean."_

…

"Rin. I need to talk to you."

But completely without trust, Rin stepped backward again, even though he just backing himself into the corner. It seemed the blind faith that came with talking to Motomi wouldn't apply here. He needed something else more convincing.

Akira reached past the tag's chain around his neck. And pulled down on the collar on the white long-sleeve. This was enough. Faded. But extensive.

…

16:27.

Rin's first reaction had been shock. A lapse that extended long enough for Akira to explain himself and the brunt of the situation. His elaboration was no more than the extent of what it had been for Motomi, but Rin's carefree exterior held no bearing on his understanding of implications.

Rin's second reaction was to jump up and buy medical supplies. His scars had evidently drawn enough pity worth the price of several pig tags.

No, he had said. It wouldn't make a difference now. And it didn't matter.

He'd only used them as an initial pull to get him to listen to what he had to say. And what he needed to ask. Rin offered to buy solids, reprimanding Motomi in spirit for not having given Akira anything substantial to eat the night before.

"Sheesh... The hell was that old man thinking?" Rin mouth twisted into a pout.

It would seem his good humor had returned.

"Rin. Do you know–"

"Hey, Akira, just let me buy ya a couple of them." The energetic blonde pressed him again.

"No. I don't–"

"It's fine, it's fine. I got plenty of tags!"

Rin pulled his hand out of his pocket, already in the process of counting them out.

"Let's see... One, two, three, four..."

This was something serious. He closed his eyes and exhaled, a vaguely irritated sigh. Then, he looked up again.

"Rin–"

In the distance, he saw him at the counter at the front, talking to the broker.

"Yeah. Give me four please!" Rin's tags scattered noisily on the counter, loud enough to capture the attention of a few of the Igura participants in the hall.

Unbelievable.

How the hell did he get over there so quickly? He'd already told him repeatedly that he didn't need anything. And why four solids? How Motomi dealt with him day to day Akira couldn't comprehend. He was obnoxiously energetic. Stubborn. Impulsive.

This ridiculous scene playing out in front of him vaguely reminded him of the someone else with the same kind of personality. He dropped the cold tag with which he had been fidgeting as his thoughts ceased to a lull. Then grimaced. It would seem fidgeting was becoming a habit for him. The voices of other participants invaded his thoughts with sudden clarity when he heard that high voice again.

"Akira!" Rin bounced back over. "I have them!"

Akira held up his hands. "No, I said I don't–"

…

17:00.

Rin crunched down on his last bite.

With his mouth still full, he dropped the wrapper, putting his hands together, and said, "Thanks for the meal!"

"...Yeah."

He couldn't believe he let himself get dragged into this Rin's pace. It was so obviously, terribly out-of-place. Energetic guys like this...

Akira looked aside and sighed.

"Akira."

He looked up to see Rin's eyes fixated on him, narrowed in immature humor.

"I can see you, ya know."

"..." His face betrayed no change in expression. "Don't know what you're talking about."

"Hm?" Rin hummed.

Akira stared at him for a moment, slightly provoked.

"...Anyway. Why'd you buy four? Two was plenty. You aren't going to finish them now."

He indicated toward the two other untouched solids on the table.

"Oh?" Rin's raised his eyebrows, as if the answer were the most obvious thing, and rattled off his reasoning. "One for me. Two omurice ones for you – one for now and the other for the road... And a green tea one for Keisuke."

Akira blinked at that last remark. Unfazed, Rin handed the two remaining wrapped solids to him.

"You looked pretty down." Rin tilted his head. "So I had to... Also, it seemed like you were going to ask me for a favor. And it isn't any fun to walk around with a guy who's sulking the entire time."

"Huh?"

Rin's voice lowered, and his grin subsided to a mellower smile. "Yeah. You want me to keep an eye out for Keisuke."

"..."

"I mean, I haven't seen him around for a while now." Rin's eyes went to the ceiling as he stretched back, in thought. "Especially not since..."

He cut himself off and looked back at Akira, meeting his eyes earnestly.

"You're worried about him, right? ...Ya know, Keisuke's a pretty nice guy. And he was worried about you, too." His hands went to his hips. "A guy like that'll get eaten up by all kinds of bad stuff here. You should hurry up, and find him already."

"..."

"Right, Akira?"

There was a silence between them in which the words of the men in the hotel lobby briefly became audible.

"...Look who's talking." Akira said simply. "...About hurrying up, I mean."

He sighed and stood up, turning in the direction of the hotel doors. "...Thanks for buying."

Rin flashed him another grin. "No problem."

Another silence. And words filtered out of the conversations around them.

"_...Shiki."_

And the blue eyes that were reassuring him earlier turned away. Rin stood up with a jerk.

"_...blood down the entire alley..."_

Rin looked back at Akira with a look of rushed, pseudo apology.

"Sorry, Akira. I've gotta be somewhere."

_Shiki is here._ Akira wasn't dense. From the short blonde's reaction, it was obvious. He was looking to find Shiki. For whatever bizarre reason, he didn't know.

"Rin–"

The arm he reached out was struck away.

"Let go." Those eyes turned cold. "I've gotta get going, now."

It had already begun to rain hard. The light drizzle from his earlier detour was now a heavy storm. But he didn't stop Rin from leaving. It wasn't as though he knew him well enough to have the right to tell him otherwise.

Solid wrappers crinkled in his pocket when he sat down again.

…

17:51.

The rain had stopped a while ago. The smell of wet pavement gave Toshima's streets an impression of being cleaner than usual, but it always rained. Rin was gone now, off on the search he had so abruptly left for, so Akira walked alone now. It was dark now. Clear skies after the rain made no such appearance here, and night was always so eager to arrive. Even though he wasn't nearly as familiar with the streets of this district, the knowledge that no one else was around assured him. Then.

An ominous intuition forced him to come to a halt. Tension stilled his body, and his legs would not move forward, caught off guard. He hadn't sensed anyone else's presence in this alley seconds earlier.

Had he failed to pick up on it because of his distracted thoughts?

No. He should have noticed well before whoever it was came this close. This set him apart from others he'd encountered here. The sense of being unsettled wasn't going away. He noted the road's continuance behind him. But he couldn't turn his back until he determined who was out there. There was no way around it. This was danger without rationality. Intuition was a powerful thing.

Night fell fast in Toshima. Unless he ventured closer to the darkness, he wouldn't be able to discern anything. The shadow let out a deep, throaty laugh, as if it had observed that Akira was staying on his guard.

"Long time no see.. I could say that, but it doesn't really feel like it's been that long, does it?"

He doubted his ears. It was a voice he knew well. The shadow took its time closing the distance, until at last it emerged into where the faint light would hit him.

"...Yo."

Keisuke. But...

When he found himself faced with the very person he had been searching for, the first emotion to rise in his chest was not relief but rather a curious doubt. Was it really him?

That same familiar face, as always. Blue coveralls tied around his waiste. There was no way Akira could have mistaken him. Yet the air Keisuke bore about him was altogether divergent from the childhood friend he knew. A different light resided in his eyes. An intimidating pressure kept Akira from moving any closer.

"...So you were safe."

Nothing else would come out.

"What's with that dumbass face you're making? It isn't like you."

He really was different. He hadn't spoken this way before. It was as though he were talking to a separate person who had borrowed Keisuke's form.

"Did you look for me? I really wanted to see you." Keisuke's mouth hiked up into a smile. "I was looking for you, too, Akira."

When this unfamiliar presence sauntered toward him, he retreated a step. But then Keisuke reached out, abrupt, and caught Akira' shoulders with his arm, pulling him close. There was no longer any room to run. Any opportunity he had before was completely gone now.

"Come on. Say something, Akira."

That was when he made the mistake of looking into Keisuke's eyes. They bore no trace of the Keisuke he had known, instead ablaze with a dark and vivid hatred. He saw what he had secretly dreaded.

Murky eyes.

He automatically tried to turn his face away, but Keisuke clenched him roughly by the jaw.

"Look at me." Keisuke cocked his head and smiled, disjointedly pacifying. "It's the first time I've seen you like this... You scared, Akira?"

His words came out horribly innocent. They lowered to a whisper as he kneaded Akira's captured jaw with his fingers, in what might otherwise have been a gesture of affection.

"I haven't changed at all, you know. Not one bit. I just made things a little easier for myself. That's all."

"..." Akira's eyes couldn't break away from Keisuke's. "...Made things easier for yourself?"

"Yeah."

After giving him a cheerful nod, Keisuke frowned suddenly. His hand trailed down Akira's collar, tugging onto the edge of his shirt.

"What happened here? ...Looks awfully painful. Poor thing."

"What do you mean about making things easier for yourself?"

Akira cut him off by pressing for an answer, unnerved by the tracing touch just below his neck. Keisuke arched an eyebrow in mock surprise at his voice.

"What're you saying now, of all times? Didn't you know? That's why I'm here now, why I became stronger. I won't just tag along behind you anymore. Didn't you wish I were like this?"

He felt as if he were being forced into the bitingly clear conclusion.

"...Line."

"Yeah." Keisuke confirmed those worst fears with a laugh. "Why else would I use it? Same goes for all the guys in Igura. They use it to get stronger, to obtain power."

His fingers lingered, still tracing Akira's skin. They sent light chills up his spine. This was wrong. Line had warped Keisuke into something else completely.

"By the way...what happened to you?"

The look of concern on his face wasn't artificial. It was vaguely reminiscent of a lost puppy. But then it disappeared.

"Something terrible must have happened..." Keisuke indicated the marked scars on his pale skin. "I was almost going to barge in there, looking for you, but my own weakness kept me from killing myself off."

"You're the reason I'm here, you know." That alien smile played about his mouth again. "I just followed you. Like a lost puppy... I was sooo desperate...so pathetic, so weak."

He sighed, as though exasperated just from recalling.

"So I got stronger."

With a shuffle, Keisuke moved. Akira's feet dragged, almost drunkenly, as he lost balance. His back hit the concrete wall off the side of the alley.

"Hey, Akira. What happened to you anyway?" He questioned. "The Executioners... You were missing for a long-ass time, you know."

Akira recollected his senses.

"That doesn't matter. I came here to do what I needed to do." He forced his voice not to waver. "I need to challenge Il-re."

More importantly...

"Keisuke, you–"

But the rest of his words were cut short.

"Aw... That's too bad." He frowned. "I got stronger. Just for you."

Keisuke seemed to have stopped listening. Suddenly, he perked up.

"Did you see it?" He turned Akira's jaw from side to side, spelling it out for him. "The club... It was my grand debut. I did it. All of it."

Cold realization froze him to the wall, and the words resonated without meaning in his head. Silence spoke for him now.

"..."

Keisuke tilted his head, apparently pleased. "So you saw it."

"Why–?"

"Why? ...Hell, why not? I said it was my grand debut. I did it 'cause I wanted to. Nothing more to it." The question was clearly lost on him. "Huh. What a surprise. You're so sweet, Akira."

He laughed, staring down at Akira's face with something akin to adoration.

"You never dreamed I'd do that kind of thing, did you? That's the sort of face you have on... You..." His tone plunged as he trailed off. "You never dreamed someone as weak as me could do it...did you?"

He found himself unable to keep watching Keisuke, who had "So what?" written all over his face.

"Come to think of it, you know that guy who tried to take my tags? The one with the blue hair." Keisuke brought up, in sudden recollection. "You saved me then. It was incredibly frustrating, you know, and I felt terrible about it... So."

"I went to return the favor." With an insinuating smile, he pulled something from the pocket of his coveralls. "Here."

A dog tag plastered in dried blood. And an equally bloody silver cross. Akira's eyes glued to the dangling items dangled in front of his face. They belonged to Takeru. Satisfied with the obvious recognition, Keisuke hurled the tag and cross away.

"Hey, aren't I amazing? I took care of things all by myself... I got stronger. I changed."

Hints of resentment sparked in his eyes.

The abrupt change in expression threw Akira off, but however unnerved by the sudden maliciousness, he still brought himself to speak.

"...Keisuke. Line– ...It's wrong."

A sudden tense silence filled the air.

Then.

Keisuke's face emptied of expression, and the hand that had been holding Akira's jaw clenched tighter.

"...Oh?" He tilted his head, expectant. "Can't hear you too well. Say it again."

"..."

Akira almost didn't speak.

"...It's wrong– ...!" He grit his teeth as Keisuke's hand flexed almost hard enough to crush his jawbone. "...There isn't any meaning in getting stronger because of Line–"

The instant those words came out, Keisuke seized him by the hair and slammed his head against the concrete wall. Akira's field of sight went black for a moment, sparks flying at the backs of his eyelids. As he automatically tried to push away from the wall, Keisuke ground his head even harder, merciless.

"Awake now, princess?" A despotic voice scraped at his mind. "Akira... You don't stand a chance against me anymore. Now I'm the stronger one."

"...Nng...kh...!"

He couldn't believe how his childhood friend – without a trace of his former self – was treating him. The shock of it left him undeniably shaken, but his ire, far stronger, drove him to glower back. Keisuke laughed huskily, amused, an animal toying with its captured prey.

"Don't look like that... Makes me feel like a bully."

Keisuke's tone shifted again. "You know, I still don't get it. What happened when you got yourself chased down? I really wanna know."

In the face of grinding pain, Akira's voiceless protest smoldered at the back of his throat. The complication with the Executioner seemed to be moving farther away, at this point. Seized by searing resistance, he tightened his fists.

Before he could even move, Keisuke slammed his head into the wall. Dull anger reflected in his low voice.

"Don't act up."

Even through blurring vision, the glint of metal caught his eye. In the dark, he could make out Keisuke brandishing a different object. He spun it in hands, the object akin to a knife.

No.

It was a screwdriver.

Akira's mind clouded, stricken by a dizziness not too far from nausea. He grimaced as a numbing heat stung its way through his cheek. If it weren't for the fact that his shoulders were also locked against the wall, he would have collapsed by now.

"Kh...!"

His head was brutally tugged back by the hair. Insensate eyes flickered in his vision, close to his face.

"Hey. Akira... What do you think I'm going to do with it?"

"..."

Then suddenly.

The loud jarring grind of metal against metal bounced off the walls in the alley. Abrupt release from excruciating pressure. He caught himself just before his knees gave way.

Uncomprehended silence gave way to sharp command.

"Fuck off."

That voice was unmistakable – yet at odds with its seemingly misplaced seriousness.

Akira's eyes flew open as he turned.

An intimidating figure stood, its back to him, holding an arm out to the side in a protective stance that firmly blocked him from Keisuke. White bandages wrapped around bladed knuckles. Metal tags clinked against a belt.

The garish hood, turned aside, did little to conceal dark tattoos and bleached hair.

The Executioner.

Sharp, brown eyes met Akira's – only for a moment – before he turned back around to meet the consequences of intervening.


	14. Reconciliation

Even through masks, the guards looked guilty enough for even him to pick up on it.

Gone.

"Yo." He called out the one to his left between the two standing at the door, and with conditioned immediacy, the young guard bowed his head.

The Executioner stood there silently, a second too long, then left, walking down the hall. He could tell his partner watched his back as he followed.

…

"Hey, 'Bitro."

Arbitro's attention moved to the other Executioner. Gunji hadn't said a thing since arriving in his office to deliver the report of the morning's patrol.

"What is it?"

"..."

Unusual. He was never without words. It must be a tendency he picked up from Akira.

"...Where is he?"

"Are you referring to Akira?"

Gunji's eyes narrowed, and he tilted his head in discontent.

"Well, it's only proper to address him by name." He couldn't quite place the Executioner's expression. He was quite serious. "It would seem he finally decided to take his leave."

"Leave?"

"Yes. I allowed him to make his own decision. The guards were to concede to his departure if Akira so chose." Arbitro tapped a finger against the desk for emphasis. "And he chose."

With those words, Gunji's irritation eased. He looked as if he were about to say something but instead held a incomprehensive silence. Unusual still. Arbitro thought he might as well offer some words in way of assistance.

"Have you ever heard of a certain saying? On letting things go." He placed his hands together. "Should it return, it is yours. If not, it never was."

He couldn't tell whether or not his words were truly registering in the Executioner's mind. When he left, Arbitro sat in something akin to amazement and curiosity. Even Kiriwar's eyes were still on the closed door.

"Brat's seriously all messed up."

...

It wasn't his thing just to forget. He couldn't just ignore it. Akira left and it wasn't difficult to figure out why. It never occurred to him that he would take the chance to leave. Now that he thought about it, Akira never really responded to him. Did he ever? He almost never smiled, never laughed. At one point, he somehow had the impression that Akira reciprocated. Now, it was apparent he never did. It had been one-sided, and Akira could only go along with it.

The vague agitation in Gunji's chest turned into a painful ache. He'd never felt rejection like this, and so clearly, before. So that was it. It wasn't too difficult to figure out that he had forced Akira into this position.

…

He and Kiriwar knew of the ravaged club the next day. A neutral zone. Violence of all kinds occurred in Toshima, but no one had ever crossed the line. Attacking a neutral zone was unheard of.

"Stinks of Line in here." Kiriwar wrinkled his nose in disgust. It was the Executioner' job to clean up after the bodies. Normally, he would be completely averse to the idea of it, but afterward, he was relieved not to have recognized Akira in the mess. The two concurrent events, his leaving and the carnage, were too coincidental.

They finished late in the day. Although patrol was over, Gunji stayed out. Kiriwar didn't care enough to ask why, so Gunji left on his own for the other neutral zone, the hotel.

17:00.

He wasn't so bold as to enter. He didn't want Akira seeing him first, as that would most definitely be the case should they happen to be in the same place. His very presence drew attention. Akira would avoid him. He knew that. So he stayed outside by the entrance for the time being, watching Igura participants enter and leave.

17:51.

It was dark now, and he let the sounds his boots made echo, just to sate his boredom. It rained hard not too long ago, and he'd had to take shelter under the canopy that stuck just above the hotel entrance. People running in and out. Boring. He'd been falling half asleep just standing there, and it was gettting too dark to see anything anyway.

After waiting out the rain, he started making his way back to the mansion. Purposefully, he took a longer route. Alleys and unfrequented paths. And just as he expected, no one was out on the street. Not just after the storm.

He stopped just before turning the corner.

…

…

...

The harsh grind of metal jarred Akira back into reality, and the sudden absence of pressure left him dazed. The silence that followed did nothing to lessen the ache in his head.

The brutal shock of the blow was enough to drive Akira's assailant back a good distance. Only stumbling shuffles and an obscure figure. He couldn't make out much of him in the limited light. Whoever it was stood meters away, in an instinctively defensive stance. As if mirroring the Executioner, he held his left hand out to the side, bleeding. Whatever weapon he'd held had scattered off into the dark, too far to be useful now. The glint of it caught the corner of Gunji's eye.

Something similar to a knife. No. A screwdriver.

He turned to look behind himself. Akira. Blood dyed a section of his hair dark red and ran along the side of his face. He looked as if he were about to collapse, held up only by the scrape of his raw palms against the concrete. Unanticipated, Gunji's chest burned, and he moved his arm to block him. Protect him.

Then, grey eyes met his. Briefly. He turned back, unable to face them. Their vague sense of recognition spurred him to look away. He didn't want to meet those eyes. Furthermore, distraction couldn't hold his gaze for too long.

The man that stood before him hadn't moved at all. Through prolonged confrontation, murky eyes met his. He knew exactly who they belonged to.

A Line addict.

No shit.

Irrationally. Mentally, he challenged the man to move. Lunge. Scream. Run. In silent fury, he stilled. Anticipating. Waiting to be provoked. But when those murky eyes came into the light, he hesitated. He recognized him.

...

_The crowd parted to reveal a young man with short brown hair wearing a worn pair of coveralls. The timid guy fidgeted, his brown eyes moving back and forth from the ground to the Executioners._

...

...Kei...suke.

Keisuke was the name he recalled.

But.

This guy was entirely too different. The expression on his face reflected a sharp contrast between the person who had so timidly approached him before and the antagonizing presence who stood before him now. Not weak. Strong. And violent. Save for appearance, there was no trace indication that this was the same person. He met the Executioner's gaze with cocky, even eyes. Something only Line addicts did.

There was a sadistic repulsiveness in them. In his chest, anger, disgust, cognizance, stigma all fed the fire. Keisuke's eyes repelled him.

Because they reminded him of himself.

Internally, he scoffed. Akira's friend? There was no way this was the same person.

He already decided he didn't like this guy.

Gunji's eyes moved to the tag hanging around Keisuke's neck. Not only was he an addict, he was an Igura participant. Two conditions that were almost always concurrent. Igura, In other words, meant that he was fighting without witnesses. Breaking rules was one thing. Attacking Akira was another.

Light played off the blades of his knuckles, anticipating. His body turned, and that same change mirrored in the man standing before him.

"Keisuke."

And the Executioner stilled at the sound of Akira's voice behind him. The eyes of the addict in front of him shifted accordingly, focusing just over the Exectuioner's shoulder.

"Don't–"

A jarring grind jilted the both of them.

When Gunji's eyes had also followed, Keisuke moved. With the inhumanly fast speed only Line addicts had. But the vicious slash was countered with the adeptness of one accustomed to fighting against it. Reverberations echoed in the way the Executioner knew would stun him. It should have created enough time to slice Keisuke's chest clean through. Addicts were wide open and cocky, evidently a result of the drug's side effects. However, a spur of the moment reflex saved him. A last second dodge. So Keisuke was pretty compatible with Line. Lucky for him, not that it would matter in the end.

Gunji delivered a brutal kick to his side in that same instant, and it definitely caught him with the brunt of the impact. Keisuke braced himself, trying to ignore it. He was momentarily stunned for now, but the only thing stopping Gunji from finishing him off was Akira.

It was Keisuke he'd called out to. Not him.

They remained in strained stand-off for a while longer. Keisuke glowered back, still holding his side, pissed off, while Gunji clenched his jaw in self control. A ticking time bomb impossible to defuse.

"...Heh? So it's the Executioner." The corner of Keisuke's mouth quirked up in mock greeting, placing emphasis on each syllable. "'Nice to meet you.' I could say that, but this isn't the first time we've met."

"Hmph."

"So...Akira, this is the guy, right? The one that caught you and kept you? You don't look too good." His gaze moved to the Executioner, pointedly. "Wonder where you got those scars?"

"...This isn't–"

"I mean, isn't he the bad guy here? I wanted to do something sooo badly. D'you know how long you've been gone, Akira?"

"This isn't–"

"Hey. You. Say something." His eyes narrowed to a glare, no longer addressing Akira. "I'm curious... What did you do to Akira?"

Gunji didn't speak up.

"Figured something bad had happened, but to Akira, that's just too cruel." Intensity flickered in Keisuke's eyes, behind the derisive smile. "Well, Akira definitely wouldn't have gone down without a fight. Guess that's why... But. Why didn't you kill him?"

"..."

"I mean, why'd you want to keep him around? I know he's real nice to look at, but..." Then he paused, as if something had just occurred to him. "Oh."

Gunji's eyes narrowed.

Keisuke caught Akira's eyes with his own mock sympathy. "Poor thing."

That truth couldn't really be denied, and it wrenched out Gunji's guilt. It was only when he felt his arm held back that he realized he'd nearly been provoked into action.

"Hey..." Keisuke was laughing at this point. "Akira, I don't think you know at all what kind of trouble your pretty face'll get you into."

Akira tried to speak to him. "Keisuke, I..."

But once again, his words were cut off. Keisuke was far from wanting to listen.

"It really must've hurt, Akira... Bet that was the first time you'd ever been fucked–"

The Executioner cut those barbs short. But Keisuke met him with equal aggression.

A knife soared through the air, aimed at Gunji's face with incredible speed, but with a deft feint off to the side, he countered, his blades heading straight for Keisuke's abdomen.

"Kh...!"

The sensation of metal biting into skin was not unfamiliar. But those blades hadn't sliced through where he wanted. His attack had been met with a desperate block. Keisuke grit his teeth as his hand clenched over Gunji's, miraculous having avoided being sliced off. Blood tricked down his hand, but it held firm, not shaking even minutely. Keisuke hardly looked fazed by the pain. He moved solely out of the understanding that, drugged up on Line of not, getting stabbed clean though would have meant almost certain death.

This time, the Executioner had been serious about ending it then and there.

And unfazed, Keisuke spoke again.

"...Hey...do you think I'm crazy?" His eyes expressed a genuine curiosity. "...Then what's it mean to be sane? Are you sane?"

He laughed.

"I mean, what the fuck is he to you?" His addressed Gunji harshly. "And what are you trying to do now? I don't know about you, but it looks to me like you did an awful lot of things. Killing, especially."

The blades were no longer cutting so viciously into his skin.

"Last time I saw Akira, he didn't have those scars. And it really looks a lot to me that he didn't want to be there." Keisuke continued, unfaltering. He knew he was right. "Somehow, I get the idea that you did a whole lot more than just hold onto him. I'm sure you wanted to have some other kind of fun. Just killing isn't enough, is it? And I don't see any other reason you would keep him alive."

"As long as it's got a pretty face and a sweet body, it's game, right? ...You fucked him 'cause you thought it'd be fun." His twisted smile curled with animosity. "Is anything I'm saying mistaken? Tell me about it...Executioner."

"..."

"Heh? He isn't even saying anything." He taunted. "Can't deny it?"

Akira spoke up. "Keisuke, we need to talk."

"Was it fun?"

"This isn't something–"

"Hey...listen!" Keisuke's voice suddenly lowered. He snapped. "Akira. You always look at me like that...yeah?"

That sudden outburst had Gunji on edge immediately. Sparks flew when their weapons clashed again.

"Damn...still fucking hurts!" It was the same hand the Executioner had knocked the screwdriver out of before.

"Enough, already." Gunji growled. "I don't get half the stuff comin' out your mouth."

Keisuke sucked in a sharp inhale. The corner of his twisted smile quirked up. "What? It's me that doesn't get you. Why'd you jump in? D'you get attached just 'cause you fucked–"

The Executioner's eyes burned with violence, but another voice interrupted his intent.

"Gunji! ...Let him go."

"..."

There was no outward sign, no guarantee, that the Executioner heard him. Akira almost intervened, but as if sensing that intent, Gunji eased up, taking his blades off Keisuke's.

He turned. "He–"

"Let him go."

"..."

When he turned back around, Keisuke was already gone.

"Tch."

Irritation pricked at him for not noticing, and he felt compelled to follow. It wouldn't be too difficult to find him again even if he were fast. But Akira.

Akira's condition took priority. His irrational mind drove his desire to track down and kill the Line addict right now, but he couldn't ignore the unfamiliar and overwhelming concern churning his thoughts.

"Akira... Ya okay?" His words came out more uncertain than he'd expected.

The danger had passed, but Akira turned the bloodied side of his face away from the Executioner. He looked cornered, ready to run. Gunji stood back, unable to close the distance Akira held between them.

"Your head."

"It's fine." He raised his far hand halfway up, subconsciously reaching for the wound, but he quickly checked himself.

"It's not fine." Gunji moved towards Akira, but the hand with which he reached out was brushed aside. The abrupt rejection caught him off guard, but he persisted. "Akira, ya can't..."

Akira had retreated to the point where his back was touching the wall again. He'd regressed back to the self that withdrew from the Executioner.

"Don't touch me."

...

…

...

Akira touched the side of his face lightly, measuring the damage. It wasn't even very painful. It only looked bad, with all the dried blood in his hair and on his forehead.

The small bathroom just beside the church room had only a dull mirror and a questionably working sink, but it was enough. He turned on the faucet and brought the water to the side of his face.

"..." Cold. And the lacerations were still raw. He ignored the numbness and dabbed at them with his shirt. He'd have to apologize to Motomi later. Also, he was going to have to wear the Executioner's shirt again.

...

The Executioner's attention was drawn to the creak of the opening door. He must have noticed the change in clothes, but if so, he didn't mention it. Akira was relieved at the sound of the rain. The storm hadn't passed yet. At the very least, he didn't have to deal with complete silence.

The quiet and the dim light in the room set a stark contrast from the dark and the tension of the confrontation earlier.

The matchbox in the night table's drawer must have been Motomi's. Candles didn't offer nearly as much luxury as Arbitro's mansion. That was something he could have pointed out to Gunji, but he didn't. Throwing him out, somehow it felt as if that would be the same as tossing a dog out into the rain.

Why did he let the Executioner follow him?

Akira adjusted his shirt on the opposite side of the room.

It wasn't smart. The Executioner knew where he stayed now. Akira couldn't return here if he wanted. Using Motomi's shirt, he carefully dried his hair. If the confrontation between him and Keisuke hadn't been interrupted, what would have happened? It almost aggravated his injust thinking over the possibility.

He dropped his hand from his head and looked over to the Executioner standing on the opposite side of the room. Their eyes locked for a moment. So he was being observed again.

He was tired of keeping his guard up. With every moment, he held a pretense. Ease. Indifference, coldness. It was tiring to stay constantly paranoid. And he didn't want to break the calm of the room with questioning. How did the he find him? Why did he do what he just did? The answers didn't matter. It wouldn't make a difference whether or not he knew how or why.

"Gunji."

It felt strangely misplaced to call him by name at this moment.

He caught Gunji's attention. "...Yeah?"

What did he want to say again? Akira dropped Motomi's bloodied shirt on the only chair in the room.

"...Thanks."

For once, Akira wasn't cautious of his intent. He couldn't shake him when he tried to return to this room, but it didn't seem the Executioner's intent was to take him back. Akira didn't know why he was staying. Other than the obvious reason, the storm. The rain outside fell relentlessly, oblivious to the atmosphere inside.

He sat down on the bed. He would have felt inclined to tell him to take a seat, but there weren't any. When he looked up again, the Executioner had a look of surprise on his face. _Thanks._ Was it really so worthy of such a reaction?

"...Nn." Gunji looked aside.

The Eexecutioner stood against the wall, and he sat on the edge of the bed. They were facing but not looking at each other. It was as if some indiscernible question, caught between them, hung in the air. There was no mention of Keisuke or Line or the mansion, and Akira didn't want his wound brought up. He would rather deal with the silence.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Gunji shift against the wall.

Neither of them were going to get any rest if they kept on like this.

"Why did you...?" Akira didn't finish his question. He wasn't entirely sure what to ask.

"...I've done a lot of things I ain't proud of, Kitty." His eyes caught Akira's at the address of the old nickname. At the sound of it, Akira recalled. Gunji'd stopped calling him solely by that name. It was a pointed reminder of what he'd done before.

"Hired off the streets. I was pretty bad before takin' this job, ya know. I did it just 'cause I felt like it. And life was pretty good this way."

That sounded just like him. At least, the him from before, the one who wouldn't any reservations about killing. Akira'd heard this story before. It was everyone's story. A lot of his generation strayed into violence. After all, they were trained to fight. Nothing else but a disconnect could have been expected from being thrown haphazardly to randomly assigned parents.

"I haven't really kept track of how long I've been here." The Executioner tilted his head up, staring at the ceiling. "Then I saw you. It was even before... Ya were really distractin' Pochi, ya know."

Akira remembered. It was after just he'd arrived at Toshima. And it was the first time he'd seen the Executioners. Even now his tags were of questionable origin to him. So he had attracted the Executioners' attention back then. Recalling the tag thief, he hadn't been ignored a second time. A twinge of bitterness sparked in his chest.

"Why'd you let me go that first time?"

At the change in tone, Gunji looked at him briefly and then looked away again. "It was 'cause patrol was over... And that was the first time I'd seen ya there. I was curious."

Curious? What did that mean? Curious about what?

"Then later, I recognized you." There was a break in his words. "I knew ya didn't really have anythin' to do with the tag thief."

Somehow, that inconclusive answer incited old antagonism within his chest. His jaw clenched in recollection, and he stood up, slowly crossing the already close distance between them.

"Why? ...Why did you do it?" It was the worst pain he'd ever been put through. And for more reasons than just the physical. "It hurt so much I thought I was going to die."

That wouldn't have been any fun though, would it?

He wanted the Gunji to look straight at him and say it.

"Why didn't you just kill me?"

No answer.

He knew each word hurt. He felt it, too. Gunji couldn't say anything. And that averted gaze was full of guilt. It was clear now.

It hurt so much. Worse than he'd thought. He thought that– ...He didn't know what he thought. What did he expect? He didn't expect this burning in his chest. It no longer felt like anger, but it was just as intense.

He finally caught that averted gaze.

When Gunji looked at him, his expression changed. "Akira."

Why did he look so taken aback?

Akira tried to grasp why. What kind of face was he making right now? Subconsciously, he reached up, with the hand on the same side as his wound. Gunji caught it before it touched. What happened next was the last thing he expected.

He pulled Akira into a shockingly tight embrace. Just as roughly as his own speech. It was so sudden Akira forgot to push him back. He didn't know what to do with his arms. With no room to move, Gunji's head nudged into the space between his neck and shoulder, carefully avoiding the side of his head.

"Sorry." He said quietly.

It was so drastic an understatement it was almost absurd. He never thought he'd ever hear the Executioner apologize.

"...Sorry." He repeated.

Again.

" I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry... I'm so sorry." Gunji's hold tightened. "I'm sorry, so... don't look like that."

A break inbetween his words.

"Don't...look at me like that."

Huh?

He decided. That he must have looked as though he were in pain. It must have been a result of the dull ache at the side of his head and the anger on his face. Did he look as if he were about to cry? And suddenly, the feeling that wasn't quite anger faded into something else. A vague memory. They'd been in this situation once before.

_He hadn't meant to get this worked up. He'd just gotten too wound up from everything that had been happening recently. He turned his head aside, but there was no hiding at this distance._

_His mask of strength fell away. It had been crumbling for a while now. Ever since he had come to Toshima, events had chipped at that apathetic pretense, and now, it had finally fallen apart._

So Gunji couldn't handle seeing him crying. Underneath everything, it was almost endearing. He was about to reassure him that he wasn't when Gunji spoke first.

"...Your head... Does it still hurt?"

"I'm fine."

"..."

"It's fine." With nothing else to hold onto, his arms went around Gunji's back. "...So stop asking."

Akira closed his eyes and let out a sigh. Only now did he feel truly exhausted. Gunji wasn't letting go either. They stayed that way for a long while. The sound of the rain permeated the quiet atmosphere. Only now he finally relaxed.

"...Akira."

"...?"

Gunji pulled back just enough to be able to look at him. There was that burning feeling in his chest again. Those normally hidden eyes conveyed something he didn't quite believe...

Reflexively, he closed his eyes.

He was already so used to the way Gunji kissed him. There was a comfortable familiarity. In comparison to the quiet from before, the sounds from the kiss were too audible. It brought an irrational sense of embarrassment. They've done this before, so why...?

Akira knew exactly what he was going to do next. A hand slid up to the back of his head. A kiss on his cheek, then lower on his neck. Things were moving quickly, and his legs hit the edge of the bed. At some point, he'd ended up on his back, sliding against the sheets. When did he lose track of himself? It was only too easy. If they kept going, it was obvious what this would lead to.

He felt he hadn't had a reason to bring this up before.

"Gunji."

He broke the kiss, and Gunji pulled away for a moment. Akira hesitated. It was a strange question, but it was something he needed addressed.

He caught hold of the hands on his abdomen.

"...I'm...a guy."

And Gunji blinked.

"Yeah. Already figured." For all that had happened, he still had his crude humor.

That wasn't what he meant, and he knew the Executioner knew that. Gunji brought one of Akira's hands up and pressed his mouth to his wrist. After a brief moment, he opened his eyes, meeting Akira's gaze intently.

"And...so?"

Akira felt his own pulse rush through his body, only too conscious of every sensation.

"Cute~ ...I get the hint." Gunji let out a low laugh, releasing his grip. "I won't go any further."

"...?"

Just like that? Akira had felt the Executioner's fervor. And to curb that so easily...?

"We haven't done anything in a long time." Gunji explained, and a mischievous grin spread across his face. "I wouldn't want to stop. Ya aren't really in any condition to let me do ya."

Gunji took the space just beside him. In the small bed, the inescapable closeness only made Akira that much more conscious. That feeling again. Even though they hadn't gone too far, it felt as if it were impossible for the two of them to get more intimate that this. Yet it didn't escalate to anything more.

Gunji was staring at his face again, and it made Akira restless, even though he was tired.

"What?"

"Hm...? Nothin'. I just like lookin' at ya."

Akira knew he was also observing his wound. To reassure the Executioner, he lightly touched it with one hand.

"It's fine." He added. "I'm fine."

"Oh...? Then you'll let me...?"

"Don't get ahead of yourself."

Gunji laughed. "Okay then, Akira~"

"Just go to sleep." Akira shut his eyes, turning away from him. It was all he could do to ignore the unknown restless feeling in his mind.


	15. No Chance

Morning in Toshima was contrastingly quiet in comparison to one in the CFC. As a light sleeper, Akira picked up on it his first night here. That was why, when the sound of the large church doors opening and closing echoed just outside the room, he woke up.

In sudden awareness, his body jolted up, and he threw his feet over the side of the bed.

Motomi. Who else could it be?

He turned to look behind him. "Gunji."

Still asleep. And even if he were awake, he would have no sense of emergency whatsoever. It would take more than just saying his name to wake him up. Akira stood and turned, leaning over to shake him.

"Hey. Gunji. Wake. Up."

A deep inhale interrupted his even breaths. A few seconds later, his eyes opened. After registering that Akira was standing, he sat up, yawning. "...What is it?"

He turned to sit on the edge of the bed, looking up at Akira, now awake – for the most part. Just then, the door opened.

Followed by silence.

"Oh." Gunji broke it. "Looks like someone else is here."

Gunji neither had a sense for nor cared whether or not he was imposing. With absolutely no idea what to do, Akira stilled and watched Motomi take in the scene with an expression that was not quite disbelief. It was obvious the other presence in the room had not truly registered yet. Motomi didn't answer. Rather he turned to Akira, having at the very least concluded the Executioner held no antagonism. For such an unusual situation, the information broker's ability to keep his head was commendable.

"Why is he here?"

"Huh?" There was a note of irritation in Gunji's voice after picking up on Motomi's tone. It seemed he was beginning to pick up on the fact that he was uninvited. Consequently, Motomi's eyes focused back on the Executioner, who was now standing. The imposing stature did not help.

And there seemed to have been some hope of somewhat managing the situation peacefully.

Akira shifted slightly to place himself between the two.

"Who are ya, anyway?" Gunji leaned over. His immature streak was coming out. "Have I ever seen ya before?"

"I don't do Igura."

"Heh? How do ya know Akira then?"

"Through something called a neutral zone."

"Neutral zone? ...Ah." A flicker of recognition sparked in Gunji's eyes. "You're the old man 'Bitro doesn't like."

Motomi's attention was drawn to something other than the conversation, and following his gaze, Akira brought a hand to cover the side of his head.

"Akira." Within that brief moment, Motomi changed from his lax countenance. The serious look on his face spurred Akira to intervene preemptively.

"Wait, I'll explain."

Behind him, Gunji's expression soured. At the very least, it looked like Motomi was giving him a chance. He relaxed only slightly.

"...I'm listening."

…

By the time he finished, they were all seated on the floor.

Keisuke. Line. And the fact that Gunji hadn't been the one to inflict that wound. He didn't cover the reason for Gunji's presence nearly as extensively as anything else. Even though Motomi was definitely curious about it, he didn't bring it up. Akira cleared it with the fact that Gunji had been the one who intervened the confrontation between him and Keisuke. By the end of everything, even Gunji looked as if he were listening. At the mention of Keisuke, he quieted. After all, he likely knew near to nothing about him.

"What about your bag?"

"Bag?" The sudden change in subject threw Akira off. He did have one, before losing it in the chase with the tag thief. Motomi had already mentioned this once before, but what relevance did it have now?

Motomi studied his face for a moment before speaking again. "So you really don't know about it?"

...

Keisuke was under the influence of Line, and although it was unusual how much he had changed, the complete 180 in personality made sense. Line originated from a man whose blood incited stimulation in physical capability. A man currently in Toshima. Motomi had once worked in the same research facility as Arbitro. Their history, he didn't cover nearly as much, neither did he mention his reasons for being in Toshima. But it was only fair since Akira himself had been vague about himself and the Executioner.

The bag Motomi had kept on bringing up held something of suspicious origin. A receiver. As it turned out, the bad Akira lost had not just disappeared into thin air. Motomi found the receiver Emma and Gwen had given Akira for communication. However, it wasn't as if it had been used. Akira hadn't contacted them since that proposal back in the prison. Death over a life in prison. In a nutshell, those were his choices. But Motomi thought differently. Throughout their conversation, he kept glancing at the Executioner. At first, Akira thought it was because he didn't expect Gunji to sit still though everything, but after a while, it became clear Motomi wasn't sure he wanted the Executioner hearing everything.

"It's fine." Akira assured. Gunji had no such interest in exploiting information. He was more one to deal with the physical.

Akira's life sentence mattered neither to Emma nor Gwen. Overthrowing Il-re was beside the point. Through the distribution of Line was a link to Nano, the subject whose blood was the real source of their interest.

So he destroyed the receiver.

Shortly after recognizing that it was government issued, Motomi destroyed it.

"After locating the man they want, they'll bring an entire army of soldiers here to bring him back." He explained. The woman Emma would not care whether or not such drastic action would spark the largely postponed territorial conflict over Toshima. It would start a war, bring back the one that Akira's generation had once been brought up to fight.

"I don't know what compelled them to choose you specifically to be here, but you should leave. Don't challenge Il-re." Motomi spoke with an unexplainable intensity. "Even if you leave, they won't pursue you. Your life sentence means nothing."

The deal they struck with him in the prison back at the CFC was only leverage to get him to Toshima.

"They had enough incentive to send you here. Those two will definitely do something big. Toshima'll become a warzone." Motomi spoke as though he knew the two personally. "It's not worth it. You should leave."

Before addressing Akira again, he glanced over to the Executioner. Only for a moment.

"Near the old club neutral zone, there's an old building that connects you to the system of underground tunnels. That's your way out of Toshima, short of going through the hostile land just outside the city." Motomi's hands reached for his pockets.

A cigarette and a lighter were now in the his hands. The Executioner wrinkled his nose in distaste, speaking up for the first time in the conversation. "Gross."

And Motomi stopped before flicking the lighter open, the cigarette in his mouth. "Huh?"

Gunji stuck out his tongue in emphasis, and Akira intervened before it could get too far. "Why are you helping me?"

Conceding, Motomi put his lighter away and took the unlit cigarette out of his mouth.

"There isn't much reason. Think of it as an old man's whim." The corners of Motomi's mouth tilted up in a ghost of a smile. "You remind me of something."

"...Remind?" Akira failed to read the older man's expression.

It seemed Motomi's intentions lay in his past, trying to make up for something. Just as vaguely as the information broker had covered his past history with Arbitro, he gleaned over his own motivations.

"If I were you, I'd leave Toshima." He reiterated.

But.

"...I can't leave without Keisuke."

"Huh?"For this, Gunji had an opinion. "Why not?"

And with genuine curiosity, Motomi watched the both of them.

"He's here because of me. He followed me here." Akira met Gunji's gaze evenly. Keisuke was his only connection to his life in the CFC. "I can't leave him behind."

Especially not now. From everything Motomi had just explained, leaving Keisuke behind would be the last thing he wanted to do. He was drugged up on Line and, as a result, seemed like an entirely different person. This sudden change drew misunderstanding that he needed to clear up.

He didn't know how he intended to do so.

On Gunji's face was an indecipherable expression. He spoke up. "...So what?"

"What?"

"It was his fault he came here."

"His fault? He followed me here."

"Didn't he attack ya?"

"Yeah. He did."

"Last time I saw him, it looked like he was out to kill ya."

"I know." The Executioner was incredibly averse to Keisuke. Akira knew there was solid reason, but at least, he had to try. "Why are you being like this?"

"When ya try to talk to him again, how do ya know he won't try to kill ya again? ...And if he doesn't, how're ya going to talk?" Gunji refuted, leaning forward. "Line addicts don't just change. He ain't going to listen to ya."

"You don't know that."

"Really?"

Akira's irritation turned into a glare. "You don't know Keisuke."

"Ya don't get Line."

Their dissent clashed almost tangibly in the air between them. Neither, each one so sure of his own conviction, said anymore. And it vaguely registered in Akira's mind that he might later regret this moment.

Motomi interrupted. "Akira... Should anything happen, Rin and I plan to take that tunnel out of Toshima. Whether or not you decide to try to bring Keisuke, you should leave, too."

When Motomi came back to Akira's attention, he wondered what he and the Executioner must look like to him. His eyes still locked with Gunji's, he answered. "Yeah. I plan to."

Akira stood, turning his back to the Executioner. "Why don't you go back and report to Arbitro? You've got your job, right?"

Without another word, he took his tags with him and left.

…

Akira made it clear he didn't want to be followed even without directly saying it. In the back of his mind, he wondered what would happen, having left both the Executioner and the information broker alone in the same room together.

It must still have been before noon by the time he reached the old neutral zone. The club had been ravaged, but the smell of blood no longer permeated the air. Definitely the Executioners' work. His walk had given him some time to think alone. Although he knew this was something he and Gunji wouldn't agree on, he was still set on talking to Keisuke. It was clearer to him now that the Executioner's rejection of the idea was entirely rational. He had good reason not to like Keisuke. But what he didn't know was the Keisuke from before. Even drugged on Line, his friend was still the same person.

Akira had no plan.

When it began to rain again, he didn't bother taking shelter. It was beginning to come down harder, but still, he walked through the streets. When he reached a somewhat more familiar alley, he stopped. The sounds of his footsteps were only that much more noticeable when shadowed.

He didn't expect that he would find him again so soon.

"Yo."

He turned.

"...Keisuke."

It was shocking to see his childhood friend's face contorted into that sadistic amusement that so unbefitted him. Keisuke laughed. "Why're you making that face again? No need to be so scared."

Akira didn't break eye contact, holding up a farce to hide the nervousness he felt. He was all too conscious of the pounding rush of blood in his ears, his heart beating too quickly. His body went cold when Keisuke languidly walked over, narrowing the distance between them. Close enough for those dark, murky eyes to become visible to him.

He picked up on Akira's unsettled state and smiled in amusement. "Where's that other guy? I didn't think he'd just leave you alone."

Akira's hackles rose at the density of the hostility Keisuke threw at him head on. This would probably be his last chance to say something. It couldn't just be Line. He didn't understand why Keisuke had changed so much.

And only later would he realize that impossible-to-bridge misunderstanding was the reason why he had no chance of reaching Keisuke.

"Keisuke. Let's leave Toshima."

The smile on his face disappeared and his voice dropped a note lower. "Huh?"

"Il-re. Igura. The life sentence. It means nothing now."

The silence that followed didn't let Akira on whether it was incomprehension or not.

"...I'm not ready to die." Even though he was unsure of what to say next, he spoke. This finally drew a reaction. The corner of Keisuke's mouth quirked upward.

"Oh? I figured. Since you came here to shake off your false accusations. But you always looked like you didn't give a fuck about anything."

This jibe stirred something in Akira. It felt like there was something missing. Something behind all of the unpredictable actions Keisuke took. In the back of his mind, he felt something needed to be addressed, but he couldn't quite grasp it. He spoke again.

"We need to leave Toshima, Keisuke."

_This wasn't what he needed to say._

The atmosphere around the man before him underwent a drastic change. Malicious intent and hostility grew far stronger. But he couldn't bring himself to give up. Even if Keisuke wouldn't hear him out. Something unspoken had to be related to the reason why he took Line. Minor misunderstandings built up friction over time. It occurred to Akira that it might already be too late.

"Hm. Can't believe I was so scared to do this before." A look of disinterest crossed Keisuke's face. His fingers played with a vial of line he pulled out of his pocket. "You ignored me before 'cause I was weak. But now. You're looking right at me. ...I'm not weak anymore."

"..." Akira didn't answer.

Then Keisuke's eyebrows rose as if he suddenly remembered something. "Oh yeah. The Executioner. Tell me about him, Akira."

Akira's voice froze in his throat. He didn't know how to address both Keisuke and the Executioner in the same breath. He couldn't. His next words finally tipped the precarious balance.

"...I want the two of us to leave this place together... So neither you nor I can afford to die."

In the silence that followed, the sound of the rain deafened his ears for that brief moment.

Then Keisuke's voice dropped dangerously low. "Liar."

"Kei-" Akira cut off his words as he jumped back.

That was pure reflex. Keisuke was fast enough that Akira didn't even have enough time to think about it. Keisuke's face contorted as he raised his voice.

"What kinda half-assed shit are you saying at this stage?!"

The next move cut it too close. Akira flinched hard, stepping aside. But his hands stayed up. He wasn't reaching for his knife yet.

He kept his eyes on the person who resembled his old friend. It was one thing trying to talk to him before, but now, like this, it was nearly impossible. Under the influence of Line, the person before hardly resembled the familiar figure in his memories.

"What a fucking joke!" Keisuke's lip curled. "Think you can just say whatever you like and expect me to believe you? I ain't dense anymore, Akira."

His eyes narrowed and that disconnected grin returned to his face. A short laugh escaped him. "Well, whatever. Doesn't matter anymore. ...'Cause I'm gonna kill you."

If anything it was reminiscent of someone else he had known before. "Keisuke–"

"I'm done talking, Akira!"

There was no more room for talking. Keisuke was fast. Incredibly, inhumanly fast.

"So fucking slow!" Just the pressure of the heavy breezes from force of Keisuke's attacks stung his skin. Akira pulled in a shocked breath as he slid across the wet pavement. The way his foot slipped on the ground barely saved him from a slash across his torso.

Keisuke really was trying to kill him.

Akira finally drew his own knife. Every time he parried one of Keisuke's blows, he risked losing control of his own weapon. Crossing blades left him shocked by the exponential increase in Keisuke's strength. There were no gaps in his movements at all, and he constant, irregular attacks showed no sign of letting up.

"...!" An especially strong impact reverberated from his weapon to rest of his body like an electric shock. But Keisuke was getting reckless. Through the wild momentum, he finally found an opening. He parried Keisuke's blade to one side, and the both of them staggered under the force, but Akira didn't miss the chance to seize Keisuke's shoulder. In that moment, Akira followed him to ground, dragging him down.

Keisuke's back hit the pavement hard.

Before Keisuke could throw him off, he pinned down a shoulder with his knee and twisted one arm out to the side. When Keisuke fought to get up, Akira forced his head to the ground. His own knife spun out of his grip and clattered on the pavement a good distance away.

"Akira!" Keisuke's voice rang out in fury. He swung his knife recklessly in efforts to knock him off.

"Tch...!" Akira felt it slice through the palm of his hand. Still, he immediately forced Keisuke's head back to the ground, biting back the stinging pain. Blood flowed freely, and the rain only made run more.

He vaguely registered the red trickle down to Keisuke's mouth. And in an instant, that expression changed from anger to shock. There was a horrifying silence as he watched Keisuke's reaction.

"...!" Akira had relaxed his grip momentarily and was flung off with unbelievable strength. The splash his back made against the flooded street felt like hitting concrete.

Keisuke coughed violently on the ground, his chest convulsing. And then his eyes looked up again.

"Aki...ra..." There was so much anger, so viciously, aggressively, clearly conveyed in his eyes. But it wasn't hate. More than anything else, it looked like pain. Akira quickly rushed back to his side, forgetting about the knife.

"Kei–"

And just as soon as he touched Keisuke's shoulder, that same vicious force hit him again, making his vision black out for a split-second just before he hit the ground again. He knew that the knife had sliced into his same injured palmmore viciously than before this time, even if he were too numb to feel it. But Keisuke was still coughing, struggling to his feet, looking as if he were barely able to hold in a scream of pain.

Again. He had to try.

Akira used the concrete wall behind him to pull himself to his feet.

He had to get the weapon out of Keisuke's hands. So he moved.

Every detail of what happened next burned itself clearly into his memory.

Akira didn't manage to pry the weapon away from Keisuke. Instead, he saw that knife headed straight for his chest. With nowhere to go and a wall at his back, he knew he wouldn't react in time.

But something else inhumanly fast knocked that knife away.

In shock of the sight before him, Akira's voice caught in his throat. Blades sliced cleanly through Keisuke's abdomen, and the silence in the moment gave way to the the dull echo of retracting blades in his head.

He caught the collapsing body of his former friend, and they slid to the ground together. Akira heard his own breaths struggling to catch up to him.

Keisuke wasn't moving. Akira looked for a reaction, but there was no movement.

"Hey. Keisuke." There was no response when Akira moved his shoulder.

"..." Rain came down hard, diluting the blood on the street. Keisuke's blood. Akira pulled Keisuke's body against his own, careful not to jostle him. There was no indication he was still breathing, but that didn't mean he couldn't recover. If blood loss or withdrawal didn't kill him, staying out in the cold and rain in his state definitely would. But he wasn't responding at all.

Reality hit Akira at the sight of the slashed wound on his torso. Keisuke wasn't getting back up. He should've realized that the moment his body stopped moving. If he'd been standing, his legs would've given out on him.

"...Akira."

That voice. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Executioner standing aside. Almost instantly, Akira felt an awful anger fill his head, blurring his vision.

"What?" His voice turned cold and hard. It was a bitter accusation. Towards whom, he didn't know.

It would be easy to let everything be obscured with resentment and enmity, but Akira knew they couldn't stay like this. At that moment, it was either him or Keisuke, and that choice had been out of his hands. Neither of them could say anything past that.

Pragmatism numbed Akira's anger. It was cold.


	16. The Tunnel

He was soaking wet from the rain. On the other hand, Gunji was the less drenched of the both of them. His pants and boots seemed to be made for the rain, and his jacket looked as if it had only suffered a light drizzle. The only things things he'd taken off were the blades and bandages wrapped around his knuckles.

Their backs were against the wall, and they sat beside each other, waiting out the rain, but not entirely sure on where to go after it passed. the both of them, so close, but neither touching nor speaking.

Akira's mind was in a haze. Numb, cold, and exhausted all at once. He held a distance between himself and Gunji, vaguely aware of the presence beside him but not acknowledging it. Everything had happened all at once, and now that he had been released from the pressure, he felt nothing.

When he shifted to pull his own body in closer, tags clinked in his hand. Keisuke's. They were more than enough to challenge Il-re several times over. Useless. He no longer had a reason for challenging Il-re. He no longer had a reason to clear his name. The one link he had to the CFC was gone.

"Akira."

Some semblance of recognition flickered in him at the sound of his name. But he didn't respond, staying curled up to keep in body heat.

"Aren't ya cold?"

So Gunji was referring to the wet clothes. Still, Akira didn't bother to react. It wasn't as if mattered. At this point, Gunji had seen all of him in every way. It was less a matter of self consciousness and more one of rejection. It was irrational, his quiet anger. He wanted to be left alone.

"..."

When he felt a touch on his shoulder, numbness gave way to violent impulse.

The sound of the Executioner's back hitting the floor was echoed by the sound of metal. In place of the tags, in his hand was a single long blade. His expression betrayed no pain, but he gripped it so hard that the metal bit into his palm, further aggravating the wound that was already there.

"..."

He could do this now. He was on top of the Executioner, a blade in his hand threatening to come down at any moment, and Gunji didn't make any move to push him off. He just looked back up, with an expression Akira had never seen on his face before. It was as if he were waiting for a verdict.

With his hand held high, Akira was shaking, shivering. He couldn't bring himself to do it. So he lowered the blade, until the cold metal pressed against the Executioner's throat. And the entire time, Gunji didn't move away. He only reacted when the blade touched his throat, if only from the coldness of it. And from that reaction, Akira only shifted dangerously closer, watching that expression change.

He could do this now. Even the invincible, untouchable Executioner wouldn't be able to get out unscathed at this point if he tried. If the blade pressed forward minutely harder, it would draw blood. But Akira didn't want to do this slowly. He would end it quickly.

So why hadn't he done it yet? He couldn't understand his hesitation. The Executioner had done so much. Killed so many. He hardly deserved mercy. He had cornered him, nearly killed him, forced him down without his consent, kept him in that mansion. All just on a whim. Akira hated him then. But that was because he had been so afraid.

But.

But what?

Gunji had treated his injuries. The very same ones he'd inflicted himself. Was that really so worthy of forgiveness? Gunji had gone and brought him solids. Fucking omurice-flavored. And that ridiculous grin as he tricked him into eating a lemon. And that night before, when he'd been bitten after his rejected advance, he pretended nothing had happened the next day.

When had things changed between them? When Akira decided to play along? And let him do as he liked? Did Gunji truly change? And was that deserving of absolution?

The Executioner killed Keisuke. With those same blades that held him down that first encounter.

With those thoughts, enmity and burned in his chest again. He leaned into the blade, feeling the Executioner instinctively withdrawing. But there was nowhere to retreat now.

And then, in the silence of the worn room and the concomitant echo of rain, Gunji closed his eyes. He reached up to the hand gripping the blade. Even though that gesture wasn't meant to keep it from cutting through, Akira stopped, realizing just how tense his grip was. It brought his attention to the blood tricking down. His blood. The blade nicked into the skin at the Executioner's neck when he spoke.

"...Sorry."

The hold on Akira's wrist loosened, and Gunji opened his eyes to look back up at his face.

"..."

He couldn't do it.

Something else other than resentment burned in his chest. And it hurt so much more than his hate had. The harsh sound of metal dropping onto the concrete floor echoed in the room.

A quiet sound escaped him, and his sight blurred. He drew back, the back of his hand to his mouth, unable to hold back a sob. Tears stung his eyes. He couldn't understand at all why he couldn't do it. The sight of the thin red line on Gunji's throat brought with it an irrational guilt.

"..."

Released from the too close brush with danger, Gunji sat up. He reached for the hand at Akira's mouth and with his other hand, ripped a section off one of his bandages and began wrapping it around the reopened wound. With that single gesture, Akira's breaths slowly calmed.

There were no words.

Gunji gave one final, firm tug on the bandage around his hand, and although Akira felt numb to all sensation, a subtle sense of pain jilted him.

…

Akira was still asleep. Just drifting off like that, he really must have been more tired than he realized. Gunji pulled Akira's body closer. Even in sleep, he was shivering. Gunji reached for the drying clothes to the side. Still damp. It probably wouldn't take much longer since the rain had subsided...but still. His own jacket would be fine. Since this guy was still asleep, he wouldn't be able to reject the offer.

The shivering eased minutely when he covered Akira with his jacket.

Now that it was quiet and the rain had passed, the entire situation calmed him. It was rare to see sun in Toshima, and the light that filtered through the two windows in the worn room quite literally made him see it in a different light. It was warmer, too. Good. The clothes were going to dry faster, and Akira wouldn't be cold anymore.

He looked down at Akira, still asleep, beside him. The sunlight was hitting him so that he no longer shivered. Back at the mansion, his face had never been entirely relaxed, but now, he just looked tired, exhausted. This guy really needed to get some more meat on him. But it wasn't as if the Executioner had helped when he took and kept him at Arbitro's mansion. How this guy had been at the top of that Bl ster game with his build was a mystery to him. Indifferent. Strong. That quiet confidence with which he'd carried himself was compelling. Yet at the same time, he looked, underneath it all, vulnerable.

That was what drew him in. The decision to take and keep Akira was an action he could no longer judge himself for. He was guilty. Akira just happened to be around at the wrong place at the wrong time, with the wrong person.

Right now, completely out of his senses in the faint light, Akira really did seem like a cat.

So damn pretty. Like always.

Maybe he should get some sleep himself, too.

…

His clothes were fairly dry now. Cold. But dry. Not much time had passed since the afternoon, but the day felt so much longer than that.

He knew now that Keisuke on Line had an extreme reaction to his blood. There was no rational explanation for it, but it seemed to be the only possibility. An awful feeling welled up in his chest again, but it was quickly suppressed. This wasn't the time to overthink things that had already happened.

"..." He looked back at the Executioner. Gunji leaned back against the wall, his eyes closed. It a rare occasion to see him like this. Or rather, just to be able to see him so clearly. Gunji was always moving, always saying something, always messing around.

Akira slid the chain of tags around his neck. The other chain, Keisuke's, he slid into his pocket. It wasn't something he couldn't focus on at the moment. Just recalling the way he acted on his reckless irrationality earlier... Nothing would have changed.

"..."

He knelt down in front of Gunji, studying that now familiar face. Where did he get so many tattoos? From his neck, to his chest, his shoulders, his arms. Akira knew they ran all the way down his back, too. For whatever reason he'd gotten them, they suited him. The angles of Gunji's face didn't appear so rough when relaxed like this. Akira leaned in closer. He really was asleep. Akira had a strange impulse to touch his face. Or something like that. He wouldn't act on it, of course.

Truly, Gunji wasn't the psychopathic Executioner his reputation made him out to be. Or at least, not anymore. Since when did that change?

"...Tch–" His hand stung on contact with Gunji's face, and immediately, Akira pulled it back.

...He decided.

Everything had turned inside out. But through it all, Gunji had saved him more than he'd realized.

The Executioner deserved more than the way he'd been rejected over and over again.

...If nothing else, Akira decided that he was going to leave Toshima. With Gunji.

"..."

The sound of running broke the silence. Outside.

It wasn't just the sound of running. He heard whirring, the sounds of machines, that grew increasingly louder. Enough to unsettle him. This was what Motomi referred to. In Toshima, quiet never lasted too long.

Akira shook Gunji awake.

…

The streets were still flooded with the rainwater from earlier, and it looked like clouds were setting in again. From the building in which they had taken shelter, it would take more some time to reach the tunnel Motomi had mentioned before.

There was no one in the streets. No one alive. What had happened in the brief time they had taken shelter in that building? The whirring of the machines were still distant for now. Akira had no intention of going that direction. Occasionally, the sound of guns firing pushed their pace faster.

They hit open street. It wasn't much farther now.

But for the first time since leaving the building, they ran into another person, someone who wasn't a dead body. Even though the figure's body was to them, Akira immediately recognized it. A chill ran through his body.

Something was off.

Hust before they could turn back to find an alternate route, the figure turned to face them. Gunji stepped in front of Akira in that same moment, blocking him with his arm.

"Shiki."

There wasn't a worse time he could appear before them than now.

The street was nearly empty, which was made the still body lying in front of him so unusual. It was someone Akira had never seen in Toshima. A man with brown hair...who somehow struck a note of familiarity...

"Where's your master, dog?" Shiki's mocking tone interrupted his thoughts. It wasn't like the cold-blooded killer to provoke so blatantly.

Akira felt Gunji tense as Shiki strode toward them. There was something different in those eyes.

Line.

Shiki stopped only a few meters away.

"Shikiti... Don't tell me..." Gunji's voice lowered in cautious disbelief.

"Him?" Shiki's face turned aside, indicating towards the still body on the street. "He merely offered me a challenge, and I took it."

What? His words were lost on Akira.

But Gunji seemed to entirely comprehend it. "Got it straight from the source, Shikiti?"

With those words, Akira finally grasped it. This was the man whose blood was the source of Line. Gunji shifted back wards. It was subtle, pushing him back even further.

"You." Shiki spoke as if he noticed Akira only just then. "I remember you."

The last time they met, back at the mansion, it didn't end so well.

Shiki addressed Gunji again, in that same mocking tone. "You aren't behaving like you usually do."

This was dangerous. They were so close to leaving Toshima but were thrown into another volatile situation so quickly. Out of anyone else to run into, it had to be Shiki. He had no idea what transpired beforehand, but it had something to do with Line and the man lying on the ground a distance away.

Shiki turned his piercing, red gaze to the both of them, and Akira inadvertently shied back from the sharp brutality they held. Gunji, in front of him, tensed up, moving one arm in front of Akira, not for a moment taking his eyes off the man who stood before them. Shiki noted the Executioner's subtle protective shift and amusement crossed his face.

"So the dog seems to have become attached."

His eyes moved to Akira then back to Gunji.

"I'm curious. What is he to you?" He tilted his head, in thought. "I wonder what would happen if I..."

Those piercing red eyes focused on him again. Then. In a show of inhuman speed, surpassing even that of Keisuke's the blade of a katana clashed with those of the Executioner's knuckles.

"Kh...!"

Gunji stumbled back, knocked off balance by the sheer force of the blow. Akira, taken aback by the shock and recoil, had been knocked onto his side.

That attack had been directed towards him. And Gunji now stood in front of him, still in that protective defense, deflecting another attack with sparks of metal against metal.

"Heh?" The corner of Shiki's mouth quirked up, almost astonished by the Executioner's quick movements to defend Akira. "Truly...intriguing."

When that gaze locked onto Akira again, Gunji moved. A desperate parry against an inhumanly strong blow. It drove him back. Akira, over the initial stun, backed up in order to avoid getting caught in the middle. The grind of their weapons was deafening to the point of silence as Gunji pushed Shiki meters back. It was more like Shiki let him.

"I've never seen you like this, dog." Shiki remarked coolly. "How far does your loyalty reach?"

He side-stepped the force behind Gunji's defense and once again, zeroed in on Akira. Gunji quickly turned and grabbed onto Shiki's jacket, yanking down hard enough to slow him. Blades aimed for Shiki's back.

"Apparently, very far."

In an instant, a katana nudged at the Executioner's neck.

"I never thought there'd be a day I would enjoy playing with you, dog."

The expression on his face truly a snarl. Gunji knocked the tip of the sword aside.

"Shut it, Shikiti!"

The only thing Akira could do was sit there, paralyzed. Their movements were all too fast and brutal. Shiki's cold, calculated effortlessness were met with desperate and increasingly sloppy blocks and parries

Akira couldn't keep up with the fight. And it soon became clear that neither could Gunji.

As he wracked his brain for possible action, Shiki's eyes trailed over to him again. The fight with Gunji hardly seemed to bother him at all. Rather, his only goal was to reach Akira. And he took his time. Just because he could. To draw a reaction from the Executioner he'd never seen before.

The worst thing Akira could do was intervene.

So he stood up, bringing his hand to his mouth. And bit down. The most difficult part was bringing himself to do something so inherently against his sense of self-preservation. It wasn't enough to see blood welling up. He turned his head as he bit down harder, holding back a cry of pain. It was only enough once red flowed down his wrist in profuse trails.

His blood would counter the effects of the other man's blood. Whoever he was, he evoked the effects of Line on Shiki's body to an extreme extent. In that case...

Akira clenched his torn palm.

...His blood would have the same effect as it did on Keisuke. But only if he could get close enough to do it. But by speculation, it was a long-shot. He couldn't really be sure of effects of his blood

And even though the worst thing he could do now was intervene, it was either that or let Gunji die. The Executioner wasn't going to brute force his way out of this. Not the way he was used to.

Through blurred eyes, he brought his hand to his teeth again and gave the open wound on final bitten wrench. Then, he ran.

Gunji, facing him, noticed his approach first.

"Akira! What–"

His shocked exclamation was cut short by a brutal kick to his side. By this point, grabbing Shiki was all or nothing. Akira grit his teeth. Even if he missed the first time, getting cut would only increase his chances of getting Shiki into contact with his blood. Just as the man turned, Akira lunged, his bloodied hand going for Shiki's face.

It barely grazed skin before Shiki smacked it aside, but the blood left a sort of handprint on his cheek. From his furrowing eyebrows, Shiki definitely felt something. From behind, Gunji knocked the katana a good couple of meters away and with his own claws, aimed for Shiki's back. This distraction gave Akira another opportunity.

In one motion, Shiki kicked him aside and turned to the still kneeling Gunji, using one arm to grab his neck and force his back to the ground.

Akira's vision went black for a moment when his head hit the pavement.

"It's a sight to see you sunken so low." That cold gaze locked onto the struggling Executioner beneath him.

The hand on his neck slowly began to tighten.

"Perhaps I'll crush your throat now and save you the crying later."

Gunji's back lifted off the ground when Shiki pulled him up by his neck. Then, suddenly, the back of his head was slammed back down onto the pavement. He couldn't even gasp from the shock of it.

Still. Not yet. He wasn't done yet.

He struggled to lift one arm, but that resistance was immediately quelled with a grinding foot to his forearm.

"Kuh...!"

He ground his teeth, eyes flickering towards the katana scattered across the pavement, too far away from the both of them, He knew. If Shiki wanted his weapon, he would have to let go. He was pinned to the ground, but–

Shiki's other hand pulled back and hit his stomach with incredible force. Unable to move, pinned down by his neck and arm, Gunji could barely even cough.

The pain only grew exponentially worse as Shiki dug in harder and twisted with his hand.

"Kh...hah!"

After stifled sounds of strain, he let out a scream. It was agony. He realized now that the unsubsiding torment was that hand, unhurriedly, excruciatingly, digging into his abdomen. The edges of his vision were going. And even through everything, mentally, he willed Akira to run.

Suddenly. Release.

What?

He looked up, his vision slowly refocusing. Above him, Shiki had stopped. It was an unusual sight. Akira's hand was clamped over Shiki's mouth, and Shiki's own bloodied hand was halfway to his face, as if he'd stopped midway from pulling Akira's hand away.

Then, he coughed, falling onto his back, and convulsed onto the ground, unable to scream from some unknown pain. Gunji had seen this before.

But he had no more time to think about it because Akira moved to his side, urging him to get up and run.

"Your..." Gunji managed to say.

His eyes locked onto Akira's hand. It was in a sorry state. So viciously torn and bloodied.

"Hurry–" Akira pulled at him. "We have to leave now. Soldiers are coming–"

The rest of Akira's words faded away, lost on him.

Soldiers?

And why was Shiki on the ground?

Without realizing it, Akira was tugging too hard on his body. Gunji nearly fell over. In a moment of clarity, he covered his abdomen with his jacket. He couldn't have Akira notice it right now. It would slow them down. His wound was killing him, but he couldn't let it show.

"This way." Akira grabbed his arm, and they ran.

Their halting steps splashed up the flooding rainwater in the streets of Toshima.


	17. Good End

Akira let go slowly, until Gunji could support himself against the wall. He could barely see, but he hardly needed a light to feel out the conspicuous ridge in the wall, indicating the door he was looking for. The knob was unusual, heavy, and rusted. It took him a moment to figure out how to turn it. The heavy door creaked as he forced it open, and the echo it made only confirmed that this was definitely the passage. This was the tunnel.

He returned to Gunji's side, grabbing hold of one arm to throw it over his shoulder. But Gunji pulled away.

"It's fine. I can walk." He insisted.

This wasn't the time for this.

"No. It's not fine." Akira pushed. "Just let me–"

Gunji flinched away when their bodies made contact, and Akira froze. Even through both layers of clothing, he felt just how wet Gunji's jacket was. He was still bleeding. Very badly. It hadn't stopped yet?

Why was Gunji hiding this?

Even now, he was shying away, pressing his other hand to the wound.

"Gunji."

That was enough to make him stop resisting momentarily.

"We're getting out of here, but that's not going to happen it you don't let me do this." It was like chiding a child. "Enough."

With that final word, he took Gunji's arm again and braced under the extra weight. When they moved off the wall, he could feel just how much the Executioner was unable to support his own body. Akira forced that fact into the back of his mind.

"Let's go."

…

Their steps echoed in the tunnel. All they could do now was keep going straight forward.

"...!" The both of them almost went down when someone's foot caught at an uneven section of concrete. Akira quickly caught himself and pulled the Executioner up with him.

They kept walking in the darkness. A straight path seemingly to nowhere. Where did it end? He didn't want Gunji walking any more than he needed to. The first they had to do when they got out was get his wound properly treated.

"Damn." Gunji sounded like he was trying to suppress a laugh. "Can't see anythin' in here."

"Yeah." Akira readjusted his grip on Gunji's arm.

There was a deeper pit in the center of the tunnel, likely where water had once run beneath Toshima. They had to take care to avoid stumbling into it. And after a while, the both of them settled into a comfortable pace and direction.

"...Are you alright?" Akira asked. Their walking was a notch above a shuffle at best.

"I should be the one askin' that." Gunji replied. Akira didn't appear to be struggling with supporting him, but part of the reason why they were so slow was because of his pace.

"I'm fine." Akira insisted. "Don't avoid the subject. Where did Shiki–"

"It hurts pretty damn badly, but that's it."

"..." It wasn't like Akira could confirm that with his own eyes at the moment. So he let it go.

They walked in silence for a while.

"...Ya know, Akira. About Keisuke..."

"You don't need to bring it up now." It came out more harshly than Akira had intended. In a quieter voice, he said "We should just worry about getting out of here."

He didn't mean to reprimand him. There was something else Gunji needed to hear. So he added onto his words."I don't resent you for it. You did what you had to."

They continued to walk in silence a while longer. Then, Gunji spoke. "...I never knew the guy, but I'm pretty good with faces, ya know."

Akira didn't stop him from talking this time.

"I didn't recognize him. The one who approached me before and the one who was grindin' your head against the wall. That's somethin' only Line can do." He knew Akira couldn't distinguish between the two, so convinced Keisuke could revert back to the person he once was.

"...The one who approached you before?"

"Yeah." Gunji answered. "He was real demanding for a timid-lookin' kind of guy."

"..." Akira was thinking on his own again. That was what he tended to do when he just went silent like that. If he'd been able to see Akira's face, he knew he'd find his expression lost in thought.

"For as long as I've been doin' this job, I ain't ever seen an addict get off Line." He continued. "Withdrawal. Yeah. And dying. Yeah. But never a clean slate... Ya'd be mistaken if ya thought Keisuke'd be an exception."

From the lack of a response, he knew Akira was listening intently to his words.

"Don't think it was your fault, Akira." He wanted to assure him. "It'd be nice if things always worked out the way ya wanted them to."

His words ended just as a step on uneven ground sent a jolt of pain up his side. But he held his breath. He didn't want Akira to notice. Right now, they had to focus on walking forward, and he couldn't have Akira slowing down.

He continued. "I mean, ya got me."

"...I don't think of it that way." Akira finally responded. "As soon as we get out, you're going to get your wound properly addressed."

"Heh~?" Gunji's grin came out in his voice. "So does this mean ya like me now?"

"Don't laugh too much. You'll hurt yourself."

He turned his head to face Akira, still teasing. "Can't help it. I really like ya."

"..." Akira hunched his shoulders at the closeness of those words. It was only now that he realized Gunji's carefree personality hadn't come out like this in a while. It must have been because of everything that had been happening. Since he left the mansion, he encountered not one moment of ease. This was hardly the time for Gunji to be joking around like this.

"I'm bein' serious right now."

"...I know."

"Hm?" Gunji tilted his head. "Then. Say it, too."

"What?" Akira was taken off guard. "..Why?"

"No reason." Gunji laughed. "It's just that I just wanna hear ya say it, too."

Akira couldn't see his face too well in the dark, but he was sure Gunji had that same ridiculous grin on his face. Self-conscious, he turned his own face aside.

"I don't really need to."

"Oh~?"

He really didn't need to hear it. He knew it well now. That those feelings no longer went only one way. Satisfied, he turned his head to face forward again. As fun as it was to have Akira all flustered, it was pretty difficult to walk straight while looking aside.

"...!" He cursed internally as he stumbled again. Damn, it hurt. And he had no way of getting pressure on his abdomen without completely stopping. They had nothing on them at the moment. Even if he were slow, he at least needed his body responding properly. But not even that seemed possible.

"Gunji." Akira sounded startled. He caught the both of them just before they fell to the ground. "What is it? Are you okay?"

"..." Gunji bit down on his lower lip, trying to find his balance again. If he were too heavy, Akira would definitely notice. "...Yeah. I'm fine. Just can't see anythin' in here."

Akira was a bit hesitant to start moving again, but the pace picked up back where it had been after a minute or two.

"Hey, Akira." It sounded like Gunji was in good humor again. "So...what do ya like about me?"

"What?" Again with the messing around. This wasn't the time–

"Like..." Gunji searched for the words. "D'ya think my tattoos are cool? They are pretty cool, right?"

"Cool?"

"Yeah. Cool."

What the hell? The random turn in conversation threw him off. But Gunji immediately compensated for his confusion.

"Like this~" He began to rattle off examples. "About Akira...your eyes, nose, lips, hair, body–"

"Hey."

" –And your voice." He kept going. "Also...when you're flustered, when you're irritated, the way ya look when you're sleepy, when you _are_ asleep... And that one time when ya laughed."

"..."

"I like the way ya don't hold back when ya say something and the way ya don't look away. Also, I like how ya get shy and then try to hide it, for example, the fact that ya like kid-stuff – like omurice – and then try to hide it–"

"I got it." Akira cut him off. Gunji was pushing himself. He could tell he was having a hard time walking straight. He could feel it from the weight on his shoulders.

"...Your tattoos are pretty cool."

"I knew it~"

"But you need to cut your hair every once in a while."

"Heh...?"

"Stop talking."

"I got it. I got it, Kitty."

"..."

So they walked on in the tunnel, Akira finally giving into Gunji's impulse. The tunnel was dark and completely silent, save for the sounds of their voices, but he didn't feel alone. Gunji acted the way he always did. Even though the feeling that nothing had changed at all was false, it gave him a sense of security as he pushed their pace forward in the tunnel. But the longer they walked, the more Gunji stumbled. For now, Akira took the excuse that it was too dark. But the path was completely flat, straight. It soon became clear, the reason for Gunji's suppressed voice. It was because he was in pain.

...

Their eyes had long been adjusted to the dark by now. So when a crack of light appeared off in the distance, it was clearly visible.

"There." Akira nudged Gunji's shoulder.

What prompted him to do this was a need for reassurance. That in the dark, someone else was with him. The Executioner's presence that had always asserted itself in the most obnoxious ways was now, in comparison, muted almost entirely.

"...Yeah."

They made their way step by step. But progress seemed to be losing its momentum. The weight on his shoulders kept becoming heavier.

"Hey. Gunji."

"...?"

"Think you'll be fine leaning against the wall for now?" Akira turned his head to face the Executioner. "I'm going to open the door."

When he didn't hear an answer he repeated Gunji's name.

"...Nn."

Akira let him down slowly, and Gunji slid down to the ground, his hand still pressed against his side. Unwilling, but forced to look away for a moment, Akira reached for the doorknob, forcing it to turn, and his effort resulted in one hard crank and a click that let him know it was finally open. This door creaked the same way the first did, and the light on the other side blinded him for a moment before bringing into view their surroundings. They were beneath a concrete underpass, in a wide tunnel that did little to shade them from the sunlight.

Akira stood there, rapt in something akin to amazement for a moment, before turning back.

Gunji hardly had the same reaction. Rather, he tilted his head away, his eyes squinting from the contrasting brightness. His arm shifted slightly as if he wanted to shield his eyes. Akira moved to his side and pulled firmly at that arm to hitch it around his shoulder again.

"I've got you. Just–" Akira tried standing back up with the Executioner's weight but couldn't.

Gunji was also bracing himself up.

"Ngh..." He grit his teeth, his eyes shut, in effort Akira came to realize was beyond what his body could offer.

He'd never seen a more determined, serious expression on Gunji's face until now.

"Come on. You gotta help me out a little." Akira found himself saying. "I can't pick you up myself."

They weren't getting anywhere. Gunji's efforts were waning. He was getting tired. And that serious expression looked more and more like pain with every passing moment.

"Akira."

It was only now that he realized it.

Gunji had given up.

He wasn't going anywhere. The agonized expression on his face evoked an unsettled panic in Akira, For the first time, he saw the Executioner in pain, tired, completely out of it. Everything he never was. Akira glanced down at the arm covering the wound. It had already stopped bleeding...so why? What mattered now was that Gunji was no longer trying to get up anymore.

"Akira."

It was only when he heard his name quietly repeated once again that he stopped, too.

The expression on Gunji's face was strained and pale. The hand he had pressured to his wound was bloodied, a useless gesture since the bleeding had already stopped. He was in bad condition. He needed medical attention now.

But Akira had no experience whatsoever. He reached for Gunji's abdomen, gently moving his hand away. It raised no protest. Gunji only watched. The cloth of the jacket stuck to the wound a little so as he pulled it aside, it drew a sharp inhale.

"Sorry." Akira looked up.

When their eyes met in that brief moment, what they held sank something in his chest. They'd lost their sharp awareness. The only things he could see were exhaustion. And dull agony.

Either way, he had to try. What did he need to do? Did he need water? To clean the wound first? Or was there something before that? As he mentally wracked his brain, Gunji spoke up again.

"...Go. I'll wait here for ya."

"..." No. Don't say that.

"I'll just slow...ya down while you're lookin'...so go."

To his own ears, those words must be ringing false, too. He was lying. Akira covered the wound with the jacket again. "Stop talking."

Gunji was tiring himself out just by speaking. It looked as if he were going to pass out. "...I ain't goin' nowhere. Just...give me a moment."

There was silence in the half-lit tunnel before Akira let go. He looked at the uncharacteristically quiet Executioner, unable to say anything else either. If anything, Akira didn't want to leave him alone. So he sat down next to him, leaning against the wall, too. He shifted closer. That usually warm, distinct presence was now muted.

There was still a lot he wanted the Executioner to hear. So he reached over with his hand to turn Gunji's face, only slightly. He closed his eyes and tilted his own head, just enough so that their noses barely touched.

"Thanks." He said quietly. "For everything."

"...Yeah."

Akira stayed with him in the half-lit tunnel, listening as those quiet breaths began to even out. And those shoulders, tense with pain before, slowly relaxed. Oblivious to the two lying there, the light that filled the tunnel only grew brighter. With a quiet breath, Akira brushed his mouth against Gunji's cheek.

He should have known the Executioner could never truly leave Toshima behind.


	18. After Toshima

The six months of civil war that followed ended with short conclusion to the uniting of Japan. Dispute over land was brought was brought to a close when the destruction of Toshima made it entirely uninhabitable. What had become of Line and its distributor was unknown, and even the crimes that followed Akira were forgotten. Charges were dropped after the discovery of two government agents' work in falsifying the claims, and they were consequently acquitted. The CFC territory no longer existed as boundary lines no longer divided the country. Governed by a united regime, the country began taking its first steps toward a new future.

…

Unopened boxes littered the floor. There was always an abundance of work at the beginning of the month. Deliveries came, and because of the short number of workers, it took a while to open them, take inventory, and restock the shelves.

Akira pulled a box cutter out of his pocket, kneeling down to cut open the first few. Food. Bentos, packs of ramen of different flavors, other kinds of junk food. Objectively speaking, these did taste much better than solids, but the familiarity of the bland food outweighed all else. He didn't really have a taste for saltiness anyway.

It didn't take too long to restock the items at the back of the store. Empty boxes in one discreet pile off to the side. After stacking two unopened boxes on top of the other, he picked them up.

It was really heavy. What were they? All cans? Either way, it was just the next aisle over. He wouldn't have to deal with the weight for too long.

"...!" His view restricted by the boxes, he missed the small stand of items that jutted out just around the corner of the aisle. His foot caught on it.

But just before he and the merchandise crashed onto the floor, someone else caught them. Hands supported the two boxes just under his, the lifesaver kneeling down to keep them level.

He let out a sigh of relief.

"Akira, what're ya doin' with that box cutter out? What if ya cut your hand again?"

Akira looked up to address him. Flashy tattoos and short, light hair.

"I could say the same for you. You don't need a box cutter out if you're at the front."

He only got a shrug in response. "Who knows, Kitty~? What if we get robbed?."

The corner of Akira's mouth tilted up. It was a ridiculous thought. Even so, he would never want anything to happen. Who would pick this store? Even with his hair cut shorter, Gunji was still held the intimidating presence he had as an Executioner. But Toshima was behind them now, even though traces of it remained with them. The scar on his hand. And his constant concern for the ex-Executioner's well-being, although it was probably unnecessary. His time there was something he would never forget. He never wanted to put Gunji in a situation like that again.

The both of them straightened up, and the boxes were placed on the floor of the nest aisle.

"Thanks." He started, but it seemed his helper had already moved on, intent on carrying the rest of the boxes for him. "...I can do it myself, you know."

"I know."

The bell at the front of the store sounded. Akira turned, "Hey, Gu–"

And was interrupted with a brief kiss.

"...Sounds like it's all you, Kitty." Gunji grinned when he broke away.

"..."

The sight of a customer peering around the corner brought Akira back to the present. Pulling his composure back together, he quickly turned on his heel to greet her.

They were supposed to alternate. It was Gunji's turn to stay up front. But his intimidating appearance didn't do much for business at first. Thankfully, the old manager that had hired them was initially lenient. He wasn't interested in prying into their past and took them in without so much as a raise of his eyebrow at the ex-Executioner's appearance. The both of them had been in pretty bad shape.

They now stood on their own, staying at the nearby apartment complex. They even had a pet. Kind of. "Pochi" – Gunji's idea – was the stray cat that wandered the nearby complex, arguably loosely owned by the both of them. He was more of the aloof, outdoor type, coming back mostly for the food and water.

Working at the store wasn't too bad. However, the description, "short on workers," actually meant that the both of them were the only workers. It was a small community that the store served – one that had so easily accepted the sudden appearance of him and Gunji – which explained why one person had been able to manage it all this time. Patronage from regular customers kept business going, and now that he and Gunji were working there, it seemed some of them began frequenting the store more often. Specifically, young female customers.

It was still frequented often, if not more, even after an irritated Gunji made it clear neither of them were available. Embarrassment ingrained those moments into his memories. Very apparently, actions spoke much louder than words.

But that was beside the point.

"Thank you."

"Please come again soon." Akira handed the girl a plastic bag.

Once the customer left, he returned to the back of the store. Gunji had finished restocking most of the shelves and moved onto putting the emptied cardboard boxes aside in the storing room.

"Here." Akira knelt down to help him. "We should have this done before the manager gets back."

It was easier to pile them on the top shelves first, to get the height out of the way before moving onto the lower ones. And within a couple of minutes, everything was put in place.

Akira leaned against the shelf for a moment to push the last of them onto the top shelf.

Done.

And in the meanwhile, Gunji tilted his head, watching him finish the task. With that familiar, mischievous grin, he leaned in closer to say something in his ear. "...By the way, Akira..."

"..."

And the boxes they had just finished stacking went crashing to the ground.

* * *

><p><em>xxx<em>

* * *

><p><em><strong>(AN)** First of all, can I apologize to those who truly thought Gunji dying was the end of it? Letting you believe that was cruel. Please forgive me._

_Ahem._

_Many of you have probably realized the difference in the style in which it was written from the first chapters to the last. That is because I did not expect to get nearly as invested and taken in by the characters as I ended up becoming._

_Akira x Gunji will always hold a special place in my heart now. This is an earnest thank you to everyone who followed their story. It truly was a ride. I mean, I have pages of scrapped scenes, for so many ways I could have changed the story. But in the end, I didn't want to drag it out. Akira and Gunji deserve more than that... I say with complete seriousness._

_To quote myself, even though I had "essentially [created] a previously nonexistent route...off the Executioner Bad End," hopefully now Gunji can be seen as a more complex character. I have finally completed what had first been written on a whim – to make up a route for the Executioner. I almost don't want to let this story go, but..._

* * *

><p><strong><em>The Executioner Gunji – Good Route<em>**

**_The End._**


	19. Extra - 01

**(A/N)** _Now begins the one shots within this story. Some of these will be shorter than others or longer than others. Some may be weird or like deleted/extra scenes or (maybe) just lemons or super sweet, but they are meant to bring more insight into the my version of the dynamic between Akira and Gunji._

* * *

><p><em>xxx<em>

* * *

><p>The thief's back receded into distance as the two Executioners ran through the crowd of Igura participants. The guy was really fucking fast. This particular thief had broken a number of rules before and definitely would not have eluded them for so long if he weren't. That would change now. They saw his face. It was no loss anyway. A familiar adrenaline rush ran through his body. Chasing like this brought excitement to his job. It was difficult to find anyone who would put up a good amount of resistance.<p>

Then, he heard the thief's voice in unrecognizable words. The blue-haired man had stopped for an instance just to pull someone with him. A distinct, much smaller guy dragged behind him. Should they catch him, too? Whatever–

The silver-haired guy turned around to look behind him, and their eyes met, for a brief moment.

Oh.

So it was him.

"...Huh." A grin pulled at the corner of his mouth. Somehow, this got just that much more exciting.

The two turned a sharp corner, and by the time, the Executioners reached it, they were out of sight. Where the fuck did that blue fuck go? The crunch of unmaintained pavement marked the street. What he knew to do now was to run. He didn't stop. Not even when his partner separated from him to follow down a different street. It didn't matter in the end anyway. He reached a point in his path at which the disturbed ground made it clear that there was some kind of scuffle. He stopped here.

There was someone else. It was strange because usually he at least recognized every face in Toshima. Especially this one would be a face he remembered. Everyone went through the same initiation. Mask or not, it didn't matter. This guy, with the unwavering glare, if he weren't mistaken, the thief dragged him along. Obviously, the two were neither friends nor accomplices, but they were involved. It wasn't something he really lingered on because he made up his mind. With a mischievous smirk, he changed course. He went left.

It'd take too long now to reach his target if he just followed the streets. He jumped a wall and ran along higher ground to take a shorter path. There was only one place this street would lead to, a dead end. So this guy was a newcomer. He definitely didn't know where he was going, while in comparison, the Executioners knew Toshima. There was no way anyone could outrun him in this city.

On higher ground, it was easier to sight his target. There was nowhere else to run. First, reach the end of this wall, jump to the next, then–

"Keh–!" He felt a sudden, brunt force at his ribs, and his body quickly approached the ground. The narrow street nearly had him hitting his head against the opposite wall, but his reflexes were fast enough just to catch himself with his hands on the ground. "Tch."

First of all, that hurt. Second of all, the sudden impact left him pausing to catch his breath. Third of all, that hurt. Irritation, and shock, surged through his body. Who the fuck could even knock him down like that? His head snapped up, to address whoever it was.

"Hey! Who–" His words cut off.

"...Hey."

No way.

No fucking way.

The man who stood before him was tall in stature and definitely strong. Rough shoes, dark pants, a worn long-sleeved shirt. Standing over him with his hands in his pockets.

Short, bleached hair and sharp brown eyes. Although, they were all visible, tattoos ran up from his chest to his neck and down his arms past rolled-up sleeves. The expression on his face wasn't quite pissed, but it was obvious he wasn't very pleased.

Gunji stilled in shock, perplexed.

A kick slammed into the wall behind him, just beside his face.

"What do ya think you're doin'?" The man that faced him spoke.

There was no mistaking it. That was his face, his voice.

"..." He recovered from the initial shock, standing up. "Who the fuck are you?"

The other Gunji straightened, looking aside and letting out an exhale. "It doesn't really matter."

"Huh?" What was with his tone? Like he was disciplining an immature kid. "Fine then, I don't care. Somehow, lookin' at ya really pisses me off."

"I could say the same for you."

Impulsively, he lashed out at his doppelganger.

And was met with equal resistance. With a deft counter, the strange man seemed to brush him off to the side. Metal glinted in his hand. It was the blade of a large box cutter.

"Wha–?"

"What do ya think you're doin'?" He repeated his question.

"And who the fuck are you?"

"I asked first."

"So?"

The man only sighed. This was really irritating. And weird. The person standing before looked exactly like him. Almost exactly like him.

"Hey." The man relaxed his stance, sticking the utility knife in his pocket. "Grow up already."

"Hmph." Gunji didn't like at all the way this stranger was speaking to him.

The doppelganger spoke again. "That person. The one you're following right now. Don't hurt him."

"Huh? Ya mean Kitty–"

"Akira."

His eyes narrowed. That was a first. Being cut off. If he weren't so confused at the moment, he would've already knocked this guy down. Whoever he was. It was like was seeing a mirror image of himself. That was why he wasn't attacking. Neither of them were, and as neither gave into the unspoken conflict, a long silence stretched out between them. It seemed the other him was waiting for an answer.

"...Okay. Fine, fine. I won't." He caved. "Happy now?"

The man observed him for a moment, with an unchanged expression. Then finally satisfied, he answered. "Yeah."

So fucking surreal. The person standing before him was definitely himself. It was a hunch. But he also felt that there was something else, other than minor details in appearance that made this guy essentially different. Not the way that he spoke or the way that he held himself or talked or the look in his eyes. He was about to ask, again, who he was when–

"Listen. Kid. ...I know ya ain't gonna listen to me when I tell ya not to touch him. But. Don't hurt him... If ya hurt him too bad, he won't ever forget. It's not that easy to get him to warm up to ya." The other man spoke, entirely serious. The look in his eyes changed into something less intense. " He's strong but not that strong. Likes to take on everything but can't. He thinks too much, too–" He began listing off more details. "He likes omurice and hates sour stuff. Can't really take a joke. Lastly..." His tone shifted with a knowing smirk, like he was offering an invaluable piece of advice. "...Don't push him too hard. 'Cause his body can't take too much at one time."

"..."

Nothing made sense at all to him, as if everything were out of context. When his doppelganger finished speaking, he got the feeling that an undetectable pressure slowly lifted off him. What had just transpired between them was some vague impossibility made possible.

...The fact that he was taking this in stride made him sure this wasn't exactly reality.

...

He jerked awake.

He moved so abruptly that he thought he'd disturbed the sleeping guy in front of him. No reaction. Well, someone with wounds to this extent probably wouldn't wake up so easily.

"..." He had a feeling that he'd just woken up from the strangest dream, not that he could recall a detail of it. ...Whatever.

The guy in front of him hadn't regained consciousness yet, and the bottle of water on the table beside the bed stayed untouched. It was difficult to figure out how to give him water. If this person were unconscious like this, would he be at a risk of drowning if he tried? Thinking about stuff like this gave the Executioner a headache. They weren't thoughts he usually lingered on. So he just stared at him. There were a lot more opportunities to do that now that the guy wasn't moving around or running away. He'd only caught sight of him a couple times in the streets. He'd never actually encountered him.

"Huh." Gunji leaned forward. He never tired of observing this guy. He'd already gotten a much closer look at him now. A sadistic smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth. This was actually pretty fun. But also different. Taking care of someone was most definitely the contradiction to his forte, killing, but looking at it this way...

It was like taking care of a cat. It was so funny to think of this as pulling a stray off the streets. Although, sure, he wasn't the nicest or gentlest person to do it. This guy... was so hostile towards him – for good reason, he guessed – and so apprehensive, with that pretty face. Fast at running away, too, with a lot of fight in him.

Just like a kitty.

But somehow.

Something was picking at the back of his mind. That he shouldn't call him that. Like someone else was berating him? He took a moment to wonder if he somehow knew this guy's name.

"..."

Nope. Nothing rang a bell.

As he stood up to leave for patrol, one last thing nagged at his mind.

"Ah." He should probably change those bandages now.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Elsewhere...<strong>_

He overslept.

Normally, Akira would have woken him up by now, but for some reason he wasn't up either. He, as an Executioner, didn't have an especially strong sense of punctuality, but now, even he figured it was probably fairly important to keep their current jobs.

Oh wait.

"..." It was the weekend. Now that that was settled, he exhaled and rubbed the back of his neck. He'd woken up with his head aching. But it wasn't like he got sick very easily.

Rather he had the vaguest hunch that he'd had a really strange dream.


End file.
